Departures
by Meharet
Summary: On the eve before the Fellowship's departure from Imladris, Legolas is approached by Arwen. Aragorn has pulled away from her, and she feels Legolas is the only one she can turn too to keep Aragorn safe. Chapter Seven Up!
1. Departures

Disclaimer: I own NOTHING of middle-earth. All characters and places are the sole property of J. R. R. Tolkein, save for the characters of Trelan and Reniean, which belong to Cassia and Sio (I obtained permssion to use them when I submitted this snippet to the Mellon Chronicles website).

**Departures, **Part One

Twilight bathed Imladris in hues of blue and violet. December snow clung to the crevices among the stone stairways and weathered statues as still gold and red leaves fluttered and fell. The elves were in their autum, preparing to leave middle-earth for the gray havens. But on this evening, an unlikely aliance of men, elves, dwarves, wizards and hobbits made other preparations. Upon the dawn, the Nine Walkers would depart Imladris for Mordor and the mountain of doom. It was December twenty-fourth, and their lives were about to change forever.

Legolas of Mirkwood, son of King Thranduil, stood beneath this last twilight in Rivendell with his friends Trelan and Raniean beneath a pair of statues at the foot of a stone staircase. Trelan's soft features were sullen, and his posture revealed his disagrement with his Prince's decision to aid in the One Ring's destruction. He leaned back against the statue to Legolas' right, his arms crossed over his chest. He was dressed in a soft tunic of gold and brown, with leggings of soft brown velvet. His feet were bare, having just followed Legolas from the Hall of Fire. The December chill did not touch Trelan. It did not touch any of the elven kin.

"...other elves that could be going." Trelan's soft voice in the gray tongue carried in the night air. "Glorfindel is more than qualified to accompany them."

Legolas nodded. He was dressed in a silver-blue tunic, one loaned to him by Elrohir, one of Elrond's twin sons. They were of similar build and height. Legolas' golden hair gleamed beneath the half-light, as did Raniean's and Trelan's. "We have gone over this for a month, Trelan. Yes, Glorfindel is more than qualified to go in my stead. I did not make this decision lightly. I promised Estel that I would follow him - a promise made the night before the council meeting. I am happy to do this, Trelan." He crossed his arms over his chest as the corners of his mouth turned up. "If Elrond had not had faith in me as a contributing member to this quest, and had thought Glorfindel a better choice, I would not be going."

Raniean, the taller of the two friends, gave a soft laugh. Dressed in a dark blue, velvet tunic and black leggings, the Mirkwood elf opened his arms in a gesture of appeasement. "Oh not very likely," he nodded his head toward his friend and prince. "Where Estel goes, you seem to follow. You would go whether you were wanted or not."

Trelan straightened up and put his hands to his sides. "Raniean's right. When you and Estel are together..." he did not finish, his meaning well understood between the three of them. Legolas and Estel's adventures together had usually ended in pain and torment - much to Lord Elrond's and King Thranduil's dismay. Legolas shot Raniean a hard look, but continued with his entrities.

"Please, both of you. If there is one thing we all have to worry about, tis not my safety, but the destruction of the ring." Legolas thought again of the deep, graveling voice in his mind that came from the ring as he had gazed at it while at Elrond's concil. The pain that accompanied Mithrandir's recital of the Black Speech still echoed behind his eyes and he shuddered inwardly. The physical power of the ring had been exhibited when Gimli, Son of Gloin, had attempted to bash the simple gold band. The axe had disentegrated. 

A dwarf's axe...utterly destroyed.

Ah, but leave it to a dwarf to act so brashly.

Raniean nodded. "You are right. The Ring's destruction is where our prayers to the Valar should be." He turned and reached a hand out to Legolas' shoulder with a firm grip. "I will tell your father, but I will not leave tonight as you have asked. Trelan and I will remain here until the dawn. I will see you off safely, my Prince."

Legolas shook his head. "You both are the most frustrating of elves."

A smile finally broke Trelan's scowl. "Isn't that a dead argument as well?"

~*~

Legolas, after leaving Trelan and Raniean for the night, wandered back into the Hall of Fire. He was looking for Estel, but was told his friend was with Elladan and Elrohir, Elrond's twin sons. Legolas laughed at this - he could only imagine the sage advice those two were filling Estel's head with. He knew his closest friend was now years beyond holding to any tricks the twins attempted - but still it brought back old memories.

Looking for the trio, the elf Prince stepped back out into the night and slowly descended the stone stairs to where he, Reniean and Trelan had spoken. As he passed beneath the statues and starry wreath, a soft sigh break the night. He paused and looked around him for the source. A figure stepped out from an archway before him and his heart caught for a second.

"Undomiel," Legolas gave a slight bow, "you startled me."

Elrond's daughter gave him a half smile with her full, pouty lips. Her expression was somber, and she kept her hands clasped before her. Her gown of shiny gold and burgundy weave glimmered beneath the lamps addorning the stairs. Someone must have come and set their flames when Legolas stepped inside. "Mae govannen, Legolas."

He raised his eyebrows in concern. "Was it your sigh that I heard? It was quite a heavy exclamation."

She focused her soft blue gaze on him and nodded. "I didn't mean to disturb you. I have been looking for Estel."

"I have heard he is with your brothers," Legolas smiled. "I was looking for him myself. I feel he might be in need of rescuing."

"Indeed, he might. I need to talk to him -" Arwen paused. Then, with a determined look, she said, "Legolas, he is pulling away from me."

"Estel?" The elven Prince took a step closer to Arwen. "Perhaps he is only thinking of tomorrow and what lies beyond. As long as I have known him, Strider has often kept his emotions to himself when he believed there was danger. He does this even more so since our travels together. Perhaps he is concentrating on what dangers lay ahead for all of us at dawn."

She shook her head slowly. "I wish I could believe that," she smiled at him, but the smile did not touch her eyes. "I feel something has changed between us. It frightens me."

"Frighten? You?" Legolas stepped forward and took her hands in his. Her slender fingers were cold and he clasped them tighter. He held her gaze in his. "Arwen Undomiel - I have never known you to be frightened of anything. Put the fear away - I can assure you that Estel loves you and that he desires you."

The wind rustled the trees around them and more autum leaves fell. A chill played along Legolas' spine and he shivered. As did Arwen. He did not believe it was the cold, but the approaching doom that hung above middle-earth if their quest failed. His race was so sensitive to the earth - here in Imladris, where spiders did not web the wood and darkness from the Necromancer had not tainted the very air, he could feel the world holding its breath. Her eyes grew wider and she stepped toward Legolas.

"I could not live in this world without him. Yet..." she lowered her gaze. "I fear he will not want me to stay."

"What has he spoken to leave you with such a fear?"

She looked looked into Legolas' eyes and he was struck as always at their deep blue color. "That is where my fear comes from - he has said nothing to me in two days."

Legolas pursed his lips in thought. If indeed Aragorn had chosen not to remain with Arwen once the ring is destroyed, there was nothing Legolas could do save berate him endlessly. Only Estel's heart could change his mind. Through their long years together as friends and traveling companions, Legolas knew that sometimes Strider protected those he loved by pushing them away, always thinking of their own health and happiness before his own. The elf prince had been the subject of that devotion many times in the years since their first meeting.

Legolas took Arwen by the shoulders. "Arwen, no matter what he says, he feels only love. Whatever he does, don't back down. Don't add burden to his shoulders - for tomorrow will be heavy enough. But in the end, know that Estel loves you. He loves you with every fiber inside of him. Be firm. Be strong. Be Undomiel."

She searched his face with her gaze. "Oh Legolas...if I could be as confident as you. If I could go with you and protect him..."

"Remain here, Arwen," he shook his head. "I will watch over him. I give you this promise. But you must promise to watch over yourself. Estel is full of thoughts, many of which will be fear of his own future. He has not given form to your fears."

"Promise me again, Legolas, that you will watch over him. You will protect him."

Legolas took both her hands in his and looked directly into her eyes. "I promise you, Undomiel. I will protect him with my life."

With a soft touch of her hand on his cheek, Arwen turned and moved into the darkening night.

Legolas felt dizzy for an instant, the place on his cheek where Arwen touched him tingled. He moved back to one of the statues and put a bracing hand against the ice-cold stone. Whatever power he had just issued in that oath, the Valar had seen fit to embody it. And Arwen would accept nothing less.

~*~

The night wore much later before Legolas found his old friend. The Ranger was seated in the room where Narsil, the broken sword of his forefathers, rested. Just beyond the statue was the platform where two months before, Elrond had held his council and the Nine had been chosen. Behind Legolas, on the wall, was the painting depicting the cutting of the one ring from Sauron's hand.

"Estel?"

"Legolas," Aragorn's voice was gruff, firm, no-nonsense. It appeared the Ranger had not heard his friend's approach.

"I believed you were with Elrohir and Elladan?" He gave a half smile. "I wondered if you were in need of salvation."

"They have retired to bed." Estel stood. "Are you packed and ready? I would advise getting some sleep. It will be the last you orI will enjoy in a soft bed."

Legolas strolled toward Estel, the night's chill rustling the leaves that blew into the open room. "And this has never happened to us before? Sleeping on rock and stone? Cowering in stables of hay or beneath trees or perhaps in them?"

Estel's stern look melted and he smiled. Though Legolas noted it was a sad one. "True, mellon nin. You and I are accustomed to so many hardships. But the hobbits..." he shook his head and glanced behind him to the building over the river where they slept. "Times will be hard. The weather cruel. And the Nazgul will be at our heels."

"And Saruman." Legolas stood before the statue that bore the broken sword. He looked up into the serene face of the cold stone. "We can't forget he who once guided The White Council."

Estel nodded. "Elrond seemed very shaken by Gandalf's news of his betrayal." The Ranger moved away from Legolas, his arms crossed over his chest. He moved to the farthest edge of the room and looked out over the moonlit night.

Neither spoke for an instant. Legolas was compelled to address Arwen's concerns with his old friend. Yet, he hesitated, sensing a distance between he and Estel. This was a seperation he had not noticed before. Indeed - Estel seemed different. Aloof. More the Ranger now than ever before.

Dunadan.

Estel turned his back to Legolas and gripped the stone railing. The night was dark and obscured much of the gardens below. "You have something you need to ask me?"

"I -" the prince gave a sigh. "It is Undomiel. She is worried you are pulling away from her."

"Mine and Arwen's relationship is none of your concern, Legolas Greenleaf. Please do not tread where you do not understand."

If Legolas were anyone else - perhaps another man or even a hobbit - he might have taken offense to Aragorn's strong words and much stronger tone. But the elf had known this Ranger far too long. He heard worry and self doubt in the human's voice. "I understand that you love each other."

Estel lowered his head. His shoulders sagged. "You are the only one, Legolas. But what I do, I do now for the future of middle-earth. My decisions - those I choose - are just those." He turned to face the elf. "They are mine. And whatever Arwen and I - whatever the future holds for me - I tread that path. Alone."

There was nothing Legolas could say. No clever words came to him. He could see the grief in his friend's eyes, see the sadness in his face. The decision was there. And he would not allow any intervention - not even from old friends. Legolas nodded. "I see."

Estel turned away, again looking out over the dark night.

Estel shiver slightly.

Legolas broke the silence. "Let us go inside, so that you can warm yourself by the fire." He moved from the sword to stand directly behind Estel.

"No," the Ranger shook his head. "There is no warmth for me - nor will there be for many nights. I know what must be done, and I understand the sacrificies we will all have to make." He turned his head to his right, but did not face Legolas. "Mellon - I need peace for a while." He looked up into the sky.

Legolas looked up as well and saw Eárendïl shining brightly. "Peace could be achieved easier if one is warm and comfortable."

To the elf's surprise, the Ranger laughed softly. He then turned and faced Legolas. His arms unfolded and he clasped one to each of Legolas' shoulders. "You have always been a brighter spot in this world." His smile faded, a little. "I have made peace with my Father - and with the object of his concern. I must now make peace with myself, before I set upon this quest. I need time to think - time that is not full of questions that I am not prepared to answer."

Estel removed his hands and stepped back. Legolas felt as if his friend had taken a much larger step away, more than just the physical one.

"Go and rest. I will see you in the dawn." The tone was dismissive. The prince did not feel slighted, having known Estel for so very long. Soon he would come into his birthright, and the worries of the world weigh heavier on him than they did at this very moment. The best Legolas could do was support the future King as best he could.

With a sigh, Legolas turned to leave.

"I am glad you will be with me, mellon nin." Estel's voice was low, quiet, and only heard by Legolas' ears.

The Prince did not turn, but smiled and continued inside the house of Elrond.

~*~

Legolas' rooms at Imladris were beautiful, and luxurious, decorated in the colors of autumn, so very different from his home in Mirkwood. Legolas allowed himself a deep sleep, after having searched the grounds for Arwen and not finding her. He knew sleep would benefit them all - Legolas would need to be alert to all dangers from now until the Ring was destroyed. Whatever path that may lead him on.

Awake well before the fellowship's departure, Legolas dressed in the clothes he'd arrived in, on that day two months passed. A simple layering of blue, brown and green. The sun had not yet crested the tops of the mountains surrounding Imladris. He checked his quiver for the seventh time and double-checked his arrows and their fletchings. He was as ready as he would ever be to begin the long road.

Someone knocked on his door and before he could cross the room, Arwen stepped inside. She wore a gown of shimmering blue and silver, her hair pulled back above her brow and held there by a silver crown. Her eyes were red and the corners of her mouth pulled down in sorrow. He stopped in the center of his room before the crackling fire. He knew then what Estel had done.

Arwen came to him quickly as he opened his arms wide and held her. Her shoulders shook with sobs. He too felt her rolling emotions but held himself firm. Kissing the top of her head, the prince said, "He did not mean it."

"Yes, he did," her voice was muffled as she spoke into his thick tunic. "I saw it in his eyes."

Legolas pulled her to a small couch beside the fire. Arwen sat beside him and laid her head against his shoulder. "No, Aragorn did not mean what it was he said."

" 'Edra le men, men na guil edwen... haer o auth a nir a naeth.' Those were his words." She sniffed. "He said it was a dream, he and I. Nothing more."

Legolas closed his eyes. Even in the common tongue, the words were sad yet poignant. ~You have a chance for another life ...away from war... grief... despair ~ for this was what his friend had spoken in the grey tongue. He remembered Estel's words from their earlier conversation - that he had made peace with his Father.

Elrond.

Legolas was well aware of the Elven Lord's disapproval of Arwen's choice of remaining in middle-earth. To do so meant choosing a mortal life, forfeiting the undying lands and the chance to see her mother again.

"Arwen, I do not believe this is what he feels."

She sniffed. "He tried to give the evenstar back."

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"I told him to keep it."

"Then you did well," he gently moved her away from his shoulder. She sat up and faced him. "You did as I suggested. I have no doubt that his words to you were those spoken because someone else worries over your future."

Arwen frowned, then her dark, delicate eyebrows arched up. "My father?"

With a sigh Legolas nodded. "Elrond has only a father's love for you. He wants you with him, safe, and alive. If you remain here," the elven prince stopped, the unspoken meaning clear to both of them.

"It is my choice to make." Her voice was low, her eyes red-rimmed with tears.

"Arwen, Estel loves you. He has loved you from the moment he saw you. Believe me in this if you believe nothing else in your life. I have heard of you and your beauty for years," a grin broke his face and Arwen gave a shy smile. "Yes, I have. I have heard of his love until I am sick of it. For him to tell you such a thing - it is because he is worried. This fellowship is setting out to the very fires of Mount Doom itself, Arwen. There is no guarantee any of us will return. He does not want you to wait for him, if he does not survive. He cannot lead this quest if part of him remains here."

Her smile remained, and she wiped at her eyes with the back of her left hand. "You would think I were a babe in my mother's arms the way I cry." Arwen blinked several times. "I understand what you tell me, Legolas. I do. I agreed to do as he asked, but I will not travel with the ships to Valinor. Not even if my Father begs it of me."

"Arwen..." Legolas could not keep the warning from his voice.

"No, hear me out. I will stay here, and I will watch him from afar. This I can do. But I will need another promise from you, Prince of Mirkwood."

"I already pledged to keep him safe, my Lady." Legolas remembered the tingle in his cheek and the slight dizziness he'd experienced earlier. "You do not need another."

"And the Valar will hold you to this," she gave him a softer smile. "But there is another danger - though I belive him strong enough to overcome it. He is descedant of Isuldir, Legolas. He is a man. You must promise me, that if the Ring takes him -"

Legolas put up a hand, unwilling to believe such a thing. There is no possible way the ring's evil could touch Aragorn, son of Arathorn. He would not accept it.

"Legolas," Arwen took his hand in hers. Her voice lowered incredibly so, and he saw the depths of her age in her eyes. "There is always the possibility. If it happens, don't let it take him. Promise me the Dark Lord will not destroy the one man who can rise against him. I do not ask this of you lightly, nor do I ask it of myself - for I am not a babe, not truly in this world. I understand the importance of what he must do. He is not like those before him. He is strong. But..." she let her words trail away, but the elven prince understood where her thoughts traveled.

Without hesitation, Legolas rose. He placed his hand over his heart, then opened it outward. "I promise you this, Undomiel. I will stay loyal to him, and I will not let the ring take him. Whatever gifts the Valar have given me, I will pledge them to keeping him out of the hands of darkness." Again came the dizziness and Arwen stood and placed both hands on his shoulders. He smiled at her as he placed his on her shoulders to steady himself. "I must watch my oaths, dear Lady. I'm afraid there will be nothing left of me if I continue in this manner."

Arwen smiled at him. She put a hand to each side of his head and pulled his face to hers. She kissed him on the forehead. "You are indeed a prince, Legolas Greenleaf. The Valar favor you." She released him and moved to his bed. There she gathered up his quiver and turned to him."If I cannot help my heart's desire, then let me aid my elven kin." She buckled the quiver in place, then sheathed his two white handled elven blades. With practiced ease Legolas fastened his bow to the quiver behind him. Arwen moved to stand by the fireplace, her gaze fastened on the prince as he strode toward her. "It is a great honor to represent our people, Legolas Greenleaf. You look formidable."

"And you look terrible." He took in her full appearance now that he was ready to proceed with the dawn departing. "You have not slept."

"I will sleep when you depart." She looked back into the fire. "But for now, please, let me remain here. I fear I am not done weeping."

Legolas gave Arwen a final embrace. "May the Valar protect you," she said in the grey tongue.

"And you as well, Undomiel." He moved away from her, gave a small bow, then strode out of the room and into the hall.

~*~

Legolas was stopped by Elladan and Elrohir before he walked past the front doors.

"Legolas!" Elrohir called.

The prince turned as the two dark-haired sons of Elrond hurried toward him. They were dressed as opposites, in formal wear of blue and dark purple. Their hair, usually combed up into braids, lay softly along their broad shoulders.

Elladan said, his voice low. "I fear what Estel has done is wrong."

Legolas frowned, but a smile traced his lips. "Is it the entire house's business what happens between your sister and Estel?"

"It is when they both suffer," Elrohir said. "I do not like this. He is making a mistake."

"Then you know what it is he said to her," Legolas looked from one to the other. "May I ask how? Because I am almost positive Arwen did not confide in you."

The Twins looked at each other. Elladan was the first to face Legolas. His grey eyes were dark and full of storms. "We listened - just now. Elrohir heard her weeping during the night, and we followed her to your room." The elder elf gave a slight bow toward Legolas. "What you told her - it is such a great responsibility for one so young."

"Who are you calling young?" Legolas raised a dark eyebrow at the twin.

Elrohir put up his right hand. "You know what we mean. Let us carry some of the burden. Know that when we are needed, you have but to call, and the sons of Elrond will be at your side. Though he would not hear it from us, make sure Estel knows this."

He looked from one twin to the other. "I will accept that. But one condition."

"Anything," the twins said in unison.

Legolas crossed his arms over his chest. The quiver and bow shifted against his back. "Estel will survive and he will return for the Undomiel - of this I hold fast to believing. But, she has to stand steadfast to the decision he has forced upon her. For now at least. Estel must believe that she is safe - gone on to the grey havens. If he fears she is in danger, he will not be able to act upon his destiny. I hope that she understands this as well."

The twins nodded.

"She will need your support," Legolas looked to each of them in turn. "Both of you. Don't let her fall into despair. That is my only worry."

"We will not travel to the gray havens until the ring is destroyed, even if beyond that," Elladan said. "We make a promise to you, and to Arwen," he put his right hand on Legolas' left shoulder.

"We will not let despair take her." Elrohir placed his left hand on Legolas' right shoulder. The prince of Mirkwood placed his hands on their outstretched arms. "Hope is what we have. Hope is what will lead us to protect middle-earth. And, in essence, hope leads us," he referred to the elven name Elrond had given Aragorn. Estel. "If we fail in our mission, Sauron will cover the lands in darkness. There will be no more Imladris, no more Lorien, no Mirkwood," he took a deep breath. "No more Undomiel."

Elladan removed his hand from the prince, placed it over his heart and held it out in a traditional elven fairwell. "Deriband, Legolas Thrandulion."

Legolas returned the gesture. But Elrohir broke with tradition as he stepped forward and took Legolas into a warm embrace. "Keep our little brother safe, Greenleaf," he whispered in the prince's ear.

Legolas chuckled to himself. With all the promises of keeping Estel safe, when would he have time to keep Frodo from harm? With a final nod to each of them, the Prince of Mirkwood moved past them to the doors of Elrond's home and the courtyard beyond.

~*~

"Legolas."

The prince turned to his right before descending the stairs down to the front gates of Imladris. Who could be calling to him now? Estel stood several feet away. He was dressed in a simple dark shirt and dark trousers. He did not wear his coat, nor his bedroll and short-bow. His sword hung at his side. "Estel."

"You are rested?"

Legolas eyed his friend warily. "Yes - very much. Have you and Gandalf discussed our path to Mordor?"

Estel nodded. "At great length, I'm afraid. I have just left him."

"Then you are ready?"

"I am..." he paused. "I have a few things I need to attend to." He glanced behind him to a shaded path that led to the woods.

To Gilrean's memorial.

The prince nodded. "Then I will leave you to your thoughts." As he turned to go, Estel called his name again.

Legolas looked back at him, turning at the waist, his dark eyebrows arched in question.

Aragorn's expression was passive, unreadable. "What I did..." he shook his head. "I did because I love her. Don't think ill of me."

"It is not to me you owe an explanation, Strider." Legolas purposefully used the nickname he'd given to Estel upon their first meeting. He was not Estel now, but the ranger, the Dunadan that would lead them all to the Mountain of Doom. For now, on their journey, the time of formality and duty had begun. "You are right in believing she came to me. She did. I comforted her as best I could." Legolas fixed his brow in a straight line, knowing it gave him a stern countenance. "You have much changed since I last saw you, Strider. You have become much the hardened Ranger. In your face I see lines, weighed down with pain and responsibility. You rarely smile, old friend. You will not allow yourself happiness, not even its promise. But in your eyes I still see the human I befriended - the human your father named --hope- - the human that will lead this quest - the human that will one day take his rightful place." He gave a slight smile. "You do what you feel is right. And I will do what I feel is right. And though our paths in this manner be different, our ultimate end is the same."

"What does that mean?"

But Legolas was done talking. He knew his words to Estel were vague - but the elf understood them. Aragorn believed he must distance himself from Arwen for her protection and his own. Legolas would keep himself near, to protect the both of them.

He turned and moved quickly down the stairs to where Boromir and two of the hobbits waited in the courtyard.

~*~

Eight of the Nine stood near the gates. Arwen stood flanked by Trelan and Raniean. They were packed and ready to depart once the Nine had left.Arwen's expression was firm, yet Legolas could see the sadness and hurt in her blue eyes.

As Elrond and Estel approached from the direction of Gilraen's memorial, Legolas stepped forward to Arwen. She smiled at him, her left hand at her breast. Legolas placed his right hand at his. In unison they held their opposing hands out, then touched one another's cheeks in a parting farewell.

"Namarie," she said softly. "May the peace of the Valar protect you."

"And you, Undomiel," Legolas turned and kissed her hand as it remained on his cheek. "I will watch him, Arwen. I have promised."

"I know, dear prince. I know."

He bowed to her and lowered his hand. She lowered hers, and then her gaze was drawn away from Legolas to something behind him. He turned and saw Aragorn had joined the others, though the ranger's gaze was focused on the fair maiden beside Legolas. Legolas took his place to the right of Boromir as Elrond stepped up and bade the Fellowship farewell.


	2. Crebain

*Permission was granted by Cassia and Sio to reference events in the Mellon Chronicles.*

**Crebain, **Part Two

The sun was setting on the Fellowship's third day out from Imladris. The December air warmed slightly as the party traveled South, past many ruins of days gone by. Some of the crumbling monuments Aragorn recognized, and many he'd intended on exploring during his years as a Ranger. But time and duty had intervened, and now his life seemed to have culminated to this one quest. A sense of urgency pushed him harder, as well as his need to keep pace with Gandalf, who traveled as if the very winds of Mordor pulled at him.

Taking the rear of their group, the ranger kept a close eye on the hobbits, Frodo in particular. The wound from the Morgul blade had not completely healed. Gandalf claimed it never would. Frodo would carry it for the rest of his life. Aragorn's larger concern delt with whether or not the wound would fester later on, or if the poison still residing in the hobbit would act as a beacon should the Nazgûl draw near. 

Such musings kept his mind off of other things that troubled him, one of them being a sullen face with beautiful blue eyes that watched over him in his dreams. He knew his decision to break away from the Undomiel was the right one; and his father was happy with that choice as well, but Aragorn's heart was torn, bruised, and ached deep inside his soul. Leaving her felt as if he'd left a part of himself behind; a part that he could never replace. 

Ahead of him, in front, Legolas walked tall beside Gandalf, elf and wizard speaking in the grey tongue at times. They kept just ahead of the fellowship, stopping from time to time, discussing their road, one or the other pointing off in one direction. Before their departure, Gandalf had conferred with Aragorn on the best road to the Mountain of Doom, but it was on the elf's keen senses the wizard depended now. Aragorn's skills at tracking were unmatched, but he could not see the beak of a crebain a league away nor hear the drum of goblins miles before their arrival. 

Brisk wind blew down from the Caradhras as the party turned south-east. The hobbits Merry and Pippin talked quietly amongst themselves. Sam had remained silent for the last hour, his gaze shifting to Frodo continuously. The ring bearer had also remained quiet, almost pensive. Aragorn could only guess the thoughts that ran through the hobbit's mind. So much responsibility rested on Frodo's shoulders. Aragorn could understand, for his own future was wrought with innuendo and uncertainty. Some said he was to be a King, others believed he was simply a coward who ran from his responsibility. The later he saw in Boromir's eyes during those brief glimpses when he caught the Gondorian staring at him. 

The ranger's thoughts returned again and again to Arwen and the emptiness in his heart. His attention was focused so much on his memory of the look in her eye upon their parting as he left the gates of the only home he'd ever known, that he came up short behind Boromir as the company came to a stop. Gandalf suggested a nearby rock outcropping as a place to camp for the night. Aragorn had not noticed the time of day, and was surprised to see the sun sinking below the mountain range. 

As Sam cooked an evening meal, and the hobbits settled in with light talk and laughter, Aragorn noticed Legolas was no longer sitting among them in the circle. Boromir had also left. Nodding to Gandalf seated beside Frodo, the two of them smoking steadily on pipe-weed, the ranger moved out of the comforting light and heat of the fire. 

He listened to the night, cold wind moving his dark brown hair about his face. He heard conversation to his right near a cropping of rocks. He recognized Boromir's voice immediately - the Gondorian's tone urgent but low. Aragorn moved quietly toward the rocks and was surprised to see his friend standing in what he recognized as a fight-ready stance. Legolas' back was against the largest of the rocks. Boromir stood in front of him, blocking any easy way around the human. The elf's quiver and arrows lay on one of the knee high rocks, and Aragorn believed the elf had been checking his fletchings when the Gondorian had approached him. 

Legolas' bow lay propped on the other side of the smaller rocks, inaccessible to the elf. He held an arrow down low in his right hand, its tip pointing toward Boromir, who was gesturing emphatically as he spoke. 

The elf's voice was just as low and insistant. "We travel west of the Misty Mountains. That is Gandalf's course. We will reach the Gap of Rohan - but then we turn west."

"If we travel to Rohan, then why not on to Minas Tirith? We could pick up re-enforcements, men who can protect the ring. Then we can march straight into Mordor and do what must be done." 

It seemed to Aragorn that Boromir had trouble actually vocalizing the destruction of the ring. Perhaps the thought of its destruction was indeed to painful for the Gondorian to withstand? The Ranger knew the extend to which Boromir desired to use the Ring to destroy Gondor's enemies, but the man did not - or perhaps could not - understand the enormity of the Ring's evil. For if Gandalf the Grey feared it turning his own good nature to that of evil and darkness, what hope could simple men have?

The ranger started to take a step toward the two. Perhaps Boromir believed he could persuade the wizard to head into Gondor by convincing the elf. Boromir had the right to wish to protect the White City, but he had no business harassing Legolas, not that Aragorn had said three words to his old friend since their departure from Imladris. There was a tension between them Aragorn did not understand, but he knew it wasn't placed there by the elf, but by his own fears and doubts. 

Aragorn paused when he heard Legolas speak. The elf's voice was low, and his tone was not one the ranger believed the Gondorian should toy with. "The whole purpose of the Nine is safety in invisibility, Boromir of Gondor. Marching into Minas Tirith with the ring? Marching into Mordor with flags waving? That is suicide. It is with the cloak of secrecy that we can tiptoe into Mordor, beneath the noses of the Dark Lord's spies and destroy the ring."

"And who are you to say where we go?" Boromir took a single step closer. "Who are you to lead us? Who are you that Gandalf Greyhem takes council from?"

Aragorn was behind Boromir in three steps. "He is Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, son of King Thranduil. You would do wise to listen to him." 

Boromir whirled, his hand on his sword hilt. At the sight of Aragorn behind him, he did not draw his weapon. His eyes grew darker beneath the moonlight and his brows knitted together. "A prince?"

"Aye," Aragorn nodded. There was symmetry in him coming to Legolas' defense, just as the elf had come to his defense in the council meeting. "He lived during the Battle of the Five Armies. He has the experience of generations of lifetimes of men, long before your ancestors rose to the stewardship of Gondor. His keen senses are what Mithrandir depends upon, not his leadership skills." Aragorn looked past Boromir to his friend. A half smile pulled at the elf's lips. The ranger looked back to the Gondorian. "Though I know from experience he can lead. His father is a good King, and teacher."

Boromir's eyes searched Aragorn's face. "I only wish to protect Frodo and the ring." He cast his glance away. "I worry for my people, Aragorn." He looked back to the Ranger with a fierce gaze. "I worry for _our_ people."

"I'm sure you do," Aragorn said, a bit more patronizingly than he intended. There was much to Boromir that he did not know; what drove him, what dreams haunted him at night that caused him to toss and turn upon his bedroll. Aragorn knew he was wrong in judging the man, and wished he did not suspect the man so.

Quicker than Aragorn had seen in many years, Legolas lept over the rock, retrieved his bow, and with the arrow he'd clutched in his hand, sent the deadly shaft off into the darkness with an audible "thwang". 

Boromir turned again, and the two humans watched as the elf nimbly ran off into the darkness. Boromir drew his blade, and crouched. "Did his keen senses detect enemies?"

Aragorn laughed softly when he saw Legolas jogging back, a rabbit held in his hand. The elf offered the prize to Boromir. "You did not eat earlier."

Aragorn believed the man would refuse the gift. Instead the Gondorian resheathed his sword and took the rabbit. "So, we are not enemies?"

Legolas shook his head. "We wish the same thing - the safety of Middle-Earth. I am not your enemy, Boromir of Gondor. None of us are."

Boromir nodded slowly, his gaze studying the elf in the moonlight. He held the rabbit up so as to see it clearer. "A fine catch. I'll see if Sam would like to add another meat to the pan." He nodded to the elf, nodded to Aragorn, then moved away from them, back in the direction of the fire. 

When Boromir was out of sight, Aragorn turned back to Legolas, but the elf was no longer standing before him. He was sitting relaxed upon the rock, carefully returning his arrows to his quiver. The distance the ranger had felt widening since their departure now threatened to become a chasm. 

With a deep breath, he approached his old friend. "In Rivendell...I didn't mean to imply..."

Legolas set his quiver down and spoke at the same time. "With Undomiel, I didn't mean to imply..."

Both stopped and grinned at one another. The air filled with the nervous laughter of unspoken misunderstandings. 

"I'm sorry about Boromir." Aragorn said.

"About Boromir?" Legolas looked to his right at the night as he spoke. "You needn't be. He can't help the way he feels. He is worried about his father and his home." The elf's pupils were wide, drinking in the moonlight, making his irises completely black. "As I worry about my own home and how the evil still spreads though the Necromancer has been long gone from Dol Guldur." He looked at Aragorn. "There is great darkness near us here, mellon-nin. And it is looking for us."

The ranger felt a shiver travel from his neck to his lower back as the elf turned that erie gaze on him. Legolas glowed softly in the dark, as all elves did. It was in that light that he saw his old friend smile at him. "Are you no longer angry at me?"

"Angry?" Aragorn shook his head quickly. "I have never been angry with you, mellon nin - only maybe..." he shrugged. "You could comfort her. I could only..."

"Break her heart," Legolas finished for him. 

"No, no. I did not intend that. Arwen is strong - she understands what lies before us." He leaned his head to the left. "Are you angry with me? For what I did?"

The elf shook his head, though his attention was again drawn into the night. "I understand, Strider. She will be safe in the grey havens. And you will fullfill your destiny." He turned and fixed Aragorn with a willful stare. "And I will be beside you. Every step."

"Is that what you meant, when you said that our ends were the same, even if our paths were different?"

Legolas smiled, and Aragorn was as always taken with how young the elf appeared to be. "Perhaps." 

There was a pause before the night was filled with soft laughter between old friends. Aragorn held his right hand out to Legolas, and the elf clasped it with his own right hand. To Aragorn's surprise, the elf pulled him forward and took him into a warm embrace. 

"Beware the Gondorian, Estel," Legolas whispered in his ear. "The Ring makes treachery there - and we cannot let him falter in this quest. It could be our undoing."

Aragorn stepped back and looped his thumbs upon the top of his leather belt. "I know," Aragorn's voice sounded heavy, even to his own ears.

Legolas nodded slowly. His gaze turned again to the night. The constant attention the elf turned to something he could not see or hear filled Aragorn with unease. "Mellon-nin, do you sense something?"

"Always," the elf's voice was soft, his attention focused on things beyond the ranger's mortal senses. "We have enemies everywhere. I can feel a great arm reaching out, over the mountains, searching for us." 

"Saruman?" Aragorn's jaw tightened. Damn the old wizard for falling into darkness. An Istari of the white would be a valuable ally to have right now. "No more distance between us, Legolas. We need to focus on our quest - on saving middle earth from darkness."

"Aye..." Legolas nodded slowly. He narrowed his eyes as he looked into the night. The moon overhead only aided his ethereal elven glow. "The sky is watching."

Aragorn shivered. A wolf howled in the night. 

~*~

For three days more Legolas and Gandalf lead the Fellowship over the outcroppings of rocks and stones, heading south. The elf kept a step or two in front of the wizard as the Istari checked on those behind them. A mile ahead Legolas caught site of a small flat area upon a hill. He suggested to Gandalf they stop, as Pippin had asked him that morning for a chance at "second breakfast". 

Legolas had developed a fondness for the young hobbit, who often brought a smile to his face even if the dwarf could take it away. Gimli had done nothing but complain since their course turned south-east. In an odd moment, the small creature had suggested to Legolas that visiting his cousin Balin in Moria would remove weeks from their travels. 

The elf had shivered at the thought of descending into Moria again. Bad things had happened to he and Aragorn there. On their first visit together, Legoals believed he'd nearly lost Aragorn to the orcs, his friend suffering pain and torture at their hands. He himself had been infected with a Morgul poison that had nearly ended his life. Another memorable instance had been when he and Aragorn were smuggled out in sacks - not an experience he wanted the dwarf to know about. 

Legolas had immediately told the dwarf no. Mithrandir lead the Fellowship down the safest road. Gimli had muttered something in dwarvish and ambled off. 

As the Fellowship settled themselves among the rocks, Legolas kept sentry - his senses detecting something present. Though he couldn't discern what. Every alarm he possessed, every gift the Valar had graced him with, was on full alert. He continued to peer into the distance, stepping lightly from one stone to the next.

Sam set up a small fire and began cooking. The elf overheard Boromir suggesting he and Merry and Pippin continue their sparing lesson from the day before. The Gondorian believed the hobbits needed to learn how to defend themselves. Legolas had noticed an interesting friendship developing between the two hobbits and the human. There was a bond forming - one that somehow he knew would be important, even if he didn't completely trust Boromir. 

He heard Estel stepping over the bolders behind him, the pungent odor of pipe-weed accompanying him. "Legolas?"

The elf glanced back at his friend. "I'm not sure. The sky is watching..."

Estel's expression darkened. "Just signal if you see or hear anything. You are our eyes and ears, mellon-nin." 

Legolas turned and gave his old friend a sly smile. "I'll keep that in mind. Go - relax and enjoy yourself."

With a smile, the human moved away and found a flat rock near where Boromir spared with the hobbits.

Gandalf sat up and to the right of Legolas as he looked into the north from where they traveled. Something called in his mind - a voice very far away. It spoke to the wind...

The elf turned slowly, his gaze sweeping the horizon. 

He heard Gimli once again bring up the subject of Moria and his cousin, only this time it was to Gandalf. But Gandalf refused the dwarf's consideration just as Legolas had. The wizard's voice was low and the elf detected a bit of fear. 

Again the scream in his mind. 

Legolas turned to the east and nimbly ran along the stones to the edge of the out-cropping. He was vaguely aware of the scuffle of the hobbits and Boromir. All his senses were alive - and finally - there in the distance, he saw a disturbance in the air. He heard the screams this time, not in his mind, but with his ears. He felt the air move. He smelled the foul breath of Mordor - of brimstone and death. 

The sky was watching them. 

"What is that?" Sam asked. 

"Nothing. Just a whif of clouds," Gimli insisted. 

"It's moving fast...against the wind," Boromir commented. 

Legolas' eyes widened as the cloud came into sharp focus. This was no cloud, but the movements of hundreds of black wings and ebony feathers, harsh, sharp beaks and a group mind that listened to only one master. He had seen this enemy before during his travels with Aragorn. He knew what their presence meant - as would Gandalf. 

The sky was watching. Sauron was watching them.

He sounded the alarm. "Crebain from Dunland!"


	3. Carradhras

_I have taken much of what I've worked on more from the movies than Tolkein's direct work. I do wish to thank those who have encouraged me to continue this; even while I work on an original piece. I hope you enjoy...._

Caradhras

From his place within the hedge and brush of the peak he heard the Crebain's scream in his mind. Shrieking, laughing, cajouling, bitter anger and eager apprehension. The creatures watched, and though their keen eyes saw nothing of the Nine Walkers among the rocks, Legolas knew the foul bird-mind had seen them in the distance. He cursed himself for not recognizing them earlier - for such a naming might have avoided detection by any spies of Saruman. For indeed the elf believed these beings were guided by the White Istari, enemy to the Nine. Legolas closed his eyes hard against the chaos in his mind. Their cries filled his thoughts and his ears and he was hard pressed not to cry out in agony.

And then they were gone, took to wing in the direction of Isengard. The elf took in several deep, cleansing breaths before moving his lithe form from his hiding place. He saw each member of the Company emerge in turn. His gaze focused on the fading black haze before searching out Estel. The look on his old friend's face mirrored that of his own feelings. 

The sky had indeed been watching.

~*~

The decision to make haste to the Caradhras was not a light one, nor was it made in as much haste as it appeared to be. It was apparent to Legolas, as well as Gandalf and Aragorn, that the passage to the south was being watched. They would need to take the next safest road.

The elf expected Boromir to suggest Minas Tirith, but the Gondorian remained quiet. Almost subdued, as if he had just realized the perilous nature of their situation. Legolas knew that spies could be used from all of Middle-Earth, but men tended not to head the warnings of Istari and Elf.

Everyone was much restrained as they repacked to began the long hike up to the Caradhras. Legolas helped Aragorn repack the supplies on Bill's saddle. The pony nudged the elf's side, then slid his cold and wet muzzle to Legolas' hand, searching for a treat. With a soft smile, the elf searched the packs till he found an apple and gave it to the pack animal. 

He felt eyes upon him and looked to his right to see Frodo looking at him, a slight smile playing on the Hobbit's lip's. Legolas broadened his own grin, and Frodo matched it. The elf gave a slight nod and looked back to the pony. "It will be cold upon the mountain, my friend," he spoke softly in Sindarin as he stroked the beast's neck. The pony chomped happily on his apple. "And I fear our trials are just beginning."

Bill raised his head up twice and gave a wet snort. Legolas chuckled at the beast's antics and moved away. 

Only to nearly bump head long into the dwarf. The stout creature stood in front of him, his front hands resting upon the top of his axe. Legolas raised his dark eyebrows in question, though kept his expression stoic. He did not want the dwarf to know he had not sensed his approach. Dwarves made more noise than a stampeding Oliphant – yet Gimli had managed to move to within a few feet and Legolas has hot heard him. 

"That beastie," the dwarf nodded to the pony. "He speaks elvish?"

Legolas considered the question. "He understood me – yet I'm not sure if it was my speaking my own tongue that encouraged that understanding." When the dwarf did move from in front of the elf, Legolas inclined his head and said, "Is there something you wished, Master Dwarf?"

"You knew – you sensed the bird before it was visible in the sky."

Legolas wondered why the Dwarf insisted on replaying events that had already sundered the decided course of their journey. "I knew something was there – but I did not know what until I could see beak and wing."

Gimli nodded and he cast his gaze down. "Then…uh…I would like to give my…" he tore his gaze from the ground and cast it up to the sky. "A thank you. For keeping watch." The gaze came back to Legolas, hazel eyes fixed on the elf's blue ones. "For the Hobbits, you know. They need protecting."

The elf narrowed his eyes. Could he have heard true? Had the dwarf just thanked him – for being what he was? Surely Dwarves knew of the elves' keen sight and hearing, their sharpened inner senses. He himself knew of a the dwarven ability to sense precious jewel and rock in solid granite. It might be that he did not, though Legolas suspected Gimli, son of Gloin, had indeed had mixing with elves before. 

The dwarf was glaring at him, as if expecting something. With a start, the elf nodded to the dwarf. "You are welcome, Gimli."

With a snort, the dwarf turned and hurrumphed back to where Aragorn stood speaking with Gandalf and Boromir. With a sigh, Legolas shook his head. An odd bit of time spent, that was. Perhaps he should keep a journal of his adventures – surely this would make a chapter of surprises. 

"Legolas," called Gandalf. 

The elf leapt over a stone and ran to the trio. "Mithrandir?"

"Legolas, I need a keen eye. The weather – what do you see from here?" Gandalf pointed to the high, snowy mountains. 

He turned and looked to where the wizard pointed. The world around him moved past as he allowed his eyes to focus on time and distance. He could see the mountain pass, heavily covered in snow, but the sun was bright and high overhead. Perhaps two days journey. He reported as much to the wizard.

Boromir commented, "You know this from mere sight?"

"Not mere sight," Aragorn interjected. The Ranger held the Gondorian's gaze in his own. Legolas watched his old friend. "Elven sight."

  
Boromir nodded, and to Legolas' surprised, clapped the elf upon his back. It was a small struggle to keep himself standing upright and not step forward with the unexpected blow. "Well done, Prince. I have seen you bring down pray in dead light – I believe it. If you say the way is clear, then let us move on." He smiled – and the expression brightened the Gondorian's troubled face. 

He should smile more often, Legolas thought, and then smiled to himself. Aragorn had commented on several occasions how even Legolas tended to keep his countenance in check, presenting a stoic visage for others to see. But the Ranger knew better – much better. 

The trio dispersed, but not before Mithrandir pulled Legolas to the side, away from the humans. He held a hand to the elf's chest and Legolas looked into the Istari's blue eyes. He spoke in the elf's native Sindarin. "Watch and listen carefully, Legolas Greenleaf. Listen to the air, keep an eye on the skies, and keep your sense alert."

  
"You believe the Crebain will return?"

"No," the Istari turned and looked at the mountain. "We are being slowly directed upon another path. And if my suspicions are correct, we will not make it over the mountain."

~*~

January, 11

The early morning movement upward had brought about a chilling moment - one Legolas would not soon forget. For Frodo had fallen, and in his tumble, dropped the Ring. Boromir had retrieved it, and though the elf had stood far away beside the other hobbits and dwarf, he could hear all that the Gondorian had said, and he had sensed Estel's apprehension when it looked as if Boromir would not return the evil prize to its keeper. 

Gimli had moved beside him, mumbling something in dwarven, but the elf had set a hand on the shoulder of Gloin's son and given a slight shake of his head. "Trust in Strider."

The dwarf had acquiesced - but not before pulling his shoulder from Legolas' touch. When the ring was returned and the Gondorian had moved toward them up the mountain's side, only then did Legolas see Aragorn release his tight grip from his sword. The Ranger looked past Boromir to Legolas, and the two old friends exchanged knowing glances. 

The will of Sauron was strong - its pull greater on the hearts of men, and the elf feared for Boromir's sanity. He sensed the inner battle in the warrior - the need to please his father, the desire to rid his city of the threat of orc and devil, and the battle to fight the voice of the Dark Lord.

As the morning wore on to noon, the Company continued in silence. Trudging through snow thicker and deeper than the tallest hobbit proved awkward, as well as dangerous at times. Twice Legolas had lost sight of Pippin in the snow. The second time Boromir stepped forward and retrieved the shivering hobbit. Luck shown down upon them with warm, bright sun, but it did nothing in the way of melting any of the snow. 

Legolas' tread rested upon the upper most crust of the packed ice. His lithe body did not sink down, but instead was buoyed, and he spent most of his time giving aid to human and hobbit alike. Sometimes even Gandalf needed a bit of a pull out of the mountain's coat. 

The hobbits gave a continuous banter about the snow and how they could tell their families of the deepest of it, a sight not seen in the Shire. In the middle of describing the hardest winter he'd ever experienced, Merry disappeared in a deceptively deep drift. Legolas nimbly moved to the hole the hobbit had made and reached in. Merry took the elf's offered hand and was hoisted up and out. 

Midday sun beat down high, but still did little to disturb the snow. Mithrandir gestured for Legolas to come to him and they paused atop a steep incline. The others struggled upward; Merry, Pippin, Sam and Bill the pony next, followed by Gimli, Boromir, Frodo and Aragorn. 

The wizard put a hand on the elf's shoulder. "There," he pointed in the distance. "The path leads through that gorge, then around another path to the pass. Can you see if it is still well traveled?"

Legolas again focused on the distance. He could see the second path the wizard spoke of - a narrow road whose right wall was nothing more than a drop over the mountain to certain death. It was a treacherous way. Evidence of the elf's sight brought the wizard near. "I know it looks dangerous - but the only other way is through Moria. I do not wish to travel into the mines."

"Nor I," Legolas said, and a shiver shook his spine when he thought of the dark of the dwarven caves. Legolas Greenleaf was a warrior among his people, a King's son, and a fearless soldier. Only one weakness did he have, one fear that had threatened to overwhelm him at times. The elf could not abide in closed places. He would surely suffocate if he were led into that dark place again. "The path is there, though ice hangs from above where the snow has melted. We should be there by the evening, if all goes well."

"Good, good."

An abrupt commotion behind them caused elf and wizard to turn. Somehow Bill had stumbled back, and had sat hard upon the dwarf, who now lay buried in the snow. Boromir and Aragorn were busy trying to help the pony back on his hooves. 

"Go and help," Gandalf said softly. "But keep a watch."

With a nod the elf traveled back down the incline and lent his strength to that of the humans. Within minutes they had the pony righted. Boromir was beside himself with laughter as the removal of the pony exposed a wet and cold dwarf, his arms splayed out at his sides. 

"Laugh will ye," Gimli's baritone carried around the party as other snickers and laughs broke out among the Fellowship. "'Well, don't just stand there, help me up Elf."

Legolas glanced at Boromir, who stepped back and smiled. Aragorn too moved away, his hands held up in the air in retreat. "The dwarf asked for you, dear elf."

"You are nimblest on your feet, and less likely to succumb to the snow. Hoist me up!" said the Dwarf to the elf as if the fair creature were an idiot. 

The dwarf's logic was impeccable - and so Legolas spread his legs wide over the hole the pony had made over the dwarf and with a sigh, reached down and clasped his hands in the dwarf's. Boromir moved then, stepping to the elf's side and wrapped his arms around the being's middle, giving his strength. With a grunt, Legolas pulled the dwarf to a standing position, though to anyone outside the hole, it appeared the dwarf's position had not changed, so deep was the snow. His helm did not show near the top.

"Out! Get me out!" Gimli looked about at the faces staring down at him. 

Aragorn moved to Legolas' left while Boromir stayed to the elf's right, they all leaned down, the dwarf taking the elf's hands directly, while the Gondorian and Ranger grabbed the dwarf's forearm. 

"On three," Aragorn said. 

On the count, they pulled back, hoisting the dwarf from the hole. Unfortunately snow did not possess the reliability of rock and the combined weight of the two humans, the elf and the dwarf caused the snow to collapse. Aragorn and Boromir fell of to the sides, while Legolas fell backward, the dwarf resting atop his chest. But the snow beneath them was weakening. 

Boromir and Aragorn scrambled back up and pulled Gimli from the elf as Legolas rolled away and the snow collapsed where he had lain. Much to his dismay, the elf heard the hobbit's laughter and blushed inwardly. He moved away and up the incline. 

"Master Elf!" Gimli called out. 

Legolas paused on his way back up to where Mithrandir stood. He half turned and looked down at the dwarf. 

"My thanks again. Your kind are as soft as they appear! I could not have chosen a better being to land upon."

Many retorts came to the elf's mind, most in elvish. He spoke them softly, with only Gandalf's ears to hear. But inward, he realized he wasn't as much mad as embarrassed. And the laughter would raise the spirits of the group. And, if he considered it seriously. it was good to hear Boromir laugh so hard. 

~*~

The Fellowship stopped for lunch past midday. Gandalf lit his pipe and sat upon a cropping of rock free of snow. Boromir helped Sam and the halflings ready their fire beneath a granite overhang. Aragorn watched this with soft delight. It was good to see the Gondorian smile, and he had taken such care with the hobbits, never allowing them to fall behind or become lost. Frodo sat a little ways away, his arms around his knees which had been drawn up beneath his chest. 

The Ranger moved to the Ring Bearer and sat beside him. The two were silent for a small space of time, then the hobbit looked up to his right at the human. "Do you..."

Aragorn raised his eyebrows in question. "Do I... believe we will succeed?"

Frodo nodded. 

"Yes...and no. I have no answers, Frodo. I only know that we are here to help you in any way you wish us. We have pledged this. And we have a wizard on our side." He put his hand to the hobbit's back. Frodo arched away at first, then with a sigh, leaned in to the touch. 

"I'm frightened...but the fear's not placed solely upon myself, but for all of us. For the Shire - for tomorrow. This," he patted his sternum where Aragorn knew the ring rested on a silver chain. "I feel it sometimes, Strider. In the dark, and this," he glanced down to a place over his left breast - where the Ring Wraith had left its mark. "It aches harder with every step I take."

"It is because of the Morgul poisoning, Frodo. Lord Elrond did what he could - but Gandalf has explained it to you. It will ache again, and it will take your breath away when the Nagûl approached. It will act as a warning." Aragorn hoped that was all the poison would do. He kept his voice low, so as not to alert any of the others to their conversation. Though he knew if Legolas had wanted to hear them, he could. 

With the sudden thought of the elf, the Ranger realized he had not seen his old friend since they stopped. He leaned forward and looked to Gandalf, then on the other direction where they cooked. 

"Legolas went that way," Frodo said, pointing behind them. "I saw him speak to Gandalf, then he moved past him."

Aragorn nodded and gave Frodo a soft smile and wink. Before he could move away, the hobbit put a hand on the Ranger's arm. Aragorn looked down at Frodo. "Yes?"

"You and Legolas...you have been friends a long time?"

"Aye...since I was twenty. Though my face and countenance has aged since that day, the elf has not changed a moment since our first meeting. He looks the same," Aragorn gave a smile to the hobbit, then a wink. "Except maybe his scowl. It seems to have deepened over the years."

Frodo gave an honest laugh, and the smile lit his face. "You trust one another - you would not be here without him?"

"These are strange questions, Frodo," Aragorn frowned. "Might I know the nature as to why you ask them?"

"It is Sam," Frodo looked past him to the rounder of the hobbits. "He would follow me anywhere, but because I care so much for him, I worry all the time. I feel it is my fault he is accompanying me into danger - and it's not his responsibility to bear. I fear for his life always."

"Sam made this choice on his own." The Ranger smiled, remembering again the antics of the hobbits at Elrond's Council, and how Samwise his been eves dropping, yet again. "He volunteered, same as Legolas. Same as Boromir - all of us are here because we wish it." He put a hand on Frodo's shoulder. "I care for Legolas. He is my brother. He and I have experienced much of life together - but he is also strong in his own right. As is Sam. Your friend is quite a resilient hobbit, Frodo Baggins. Give him time, and he will suprise us all."

His words seemed to reassure Frodo and Aragorn moved away from him in search of his oldest friend. 

As he passed Gandalf, the wizard pointed to Aragorn's right, and the Ranger spotted the elf standing on the highest of the rock outcroppings. His bow was in his hand, and his gaze searched the perimeter. Even from this distance, Aragorn could see the elf was tense. Prepared. Alert. 

The Ranger managed the snow and rock with only a little difficulty. Legolas turned and looked at him as he approached. "Legolas...do you hear something?"

The elf shook his head. "No...but I feel." Legolas turned and quickly crossed the few rocks between he and Aragorn. The elf's eyes were wide, his pupils fully dilated to see great distances. It was this difference that gave the Elven race a strange, bright-eyed appearance. "It's not something tangible...only it lurks in the back of my mind."

"More Crebain?"

The Elf shook his head. "This is something different - something stronger. A single pull. Not harried by thousands of others. I feel it's presence, not strong, but gathering."

Aragorn did not like it when Legolas had these feelings. Years of traveling with the elf as well as being raised by an Elven Lord had taught him their race was not prone to mis-understanding signs and portents. If the elf said something was near and watching - Aragorn shivered, though not from the cold. 

Legolas still had his gaze fixed on the horizon. "We should be moving soon...I sense a storm."

Aragorn shielded his eyes against the sun as he looked where the elf peered. "Storm? It is clear skies for miles."

"There is a storm coming," he turned and moved past Aragorn, toward where Gandalf sat watching them. 

"Legolas," Aragorn called out. 

The elf returned to his side. His face was open and questioning, his pupils dilating back to their usual larger-than-usual size. "Strider?"

"About earlier...with Gimli. I meant no harm."

"None taken." A genuine smile broke the elf's stern expression. His dark eyebrows arched and he gripped the Dunadan's shoulder with his left hand. "Estel - it seems you are apologizing to me too much. Things are as they are. I hold no ill will. A dwarf is a dwarf. They are all the same, gruff in their bearing and tact-less in their tastes." He winked at Aragorn and then moved again away from him to the Wizard. 

The Ranger looked back to where Legolas' attention had been so drawn. Still he could not see so far as to notice any clouds brewing. The sky was clear blue. Not even a hint of weather. 

And yet, Aragorn knew the elf spoke the truth as another shiver took his shoulders and he returned to the others. 

~*~

The storm came as they reached the dangerous path. Winds of ice cut through the mountain tops, all of it seemingly directed at the Company. Legolas stayed in the back, careful to give aid to any of those having trouble plowing through the waist high snow. The wind moved his hair wildly about his head, and though the cold did not touch him, the force of the air stung his eyes. He narrowed them in hopes of keeping the largest of the snow flakes from them. They flew fat and fast at them, many stinging like tiny rocks hurled from short distances, each precisely placed to give the most damage. 

Gandalf lead them, using his staff to part the snow, hacking and moving as he slowly trudged on. Legolas chaffed at the delays in moving, his feet still resting atop the treacherous pass. Frodo disappeared once. Aragorn reached down and took the freezing hobbit into his arms, as the elf watched Boromir do the same for Merry and Pippin. Such a heart, so large and compassionate - the elf quailed inside at the thought of the darkness that threatened to poison it. 

They moved along the mountain's edge, exposed to the weather. Something inside the wind rang inside Legolas' head. He winced outwardly and paused, cocking his head to his left shoulder. He looked out over the valley below, then moved his gaze to the ominous clouds above. 

There is was again - a voice calling. No...commanding. The very sound of it set up internal alarms about his body and he fought the urge to draw bow and arrow, for they would do nothing against this sorcery. 

For that is what it was. Magic of a darker kind. 

He moved carefully around the line of the Nine - making every effort not to dislodge the others or distract them. To his right, mere inches from his nimble feet, was the ledge's edge, made thick from packed snow. He needed to hear the voice again - it came in and out, like something caught in the wind and taken away. 

He moved past Gandalf at the front and stood on the outermost edge - and listened. There - deep, powerful, dark, brooding, malicious - the voice was strongest now as the wind picked up speed and force, as if the owner of the magic knew he listened and wanted to shove him from the mountain side. 

"There is a foul voice on the air!" Legolas said this, not as a true shout, but enough for Mithrandir. 

"It is Saruman," the Istari replied. 

A crack above them sounded. Legolas looked up to see a cascade of snow fall, accompanied by a few rocks. They fell many yards away, and though they did not dislodge the company, it reminded them all of their peril and insignificance to this magic of nature. 

"He is trying to bring down the mountain!" Aragorn said.

Gandalf stepped out, a few inches behind where Legolas stood. The wizard raised his hands, his staff in the air. He spoke into the wind and the elf heard Gandalf's words mix with the dark ones, and a fierce battle of magics began in the sky. Dark against light. The air charged with it and Legolas reacted, his body ridged as the magic worked, one against the other. 

Another crack, lightening this time, struck the mountain above them. The ground shook beneath the elf's feet. He looked up to see the uppermost top give way, sending out a spray of boulders and snow. The shock triggered an avalanche. The elf saw the cascade begin. He looked to the others. All of them saw it and began moving in toward the mountain's wall. 

All save for Gandalf. The Wizard's attention was focused on his magic battle with words on the wind. 

Legolas moved as lightening. He turned and rushed the Istari, grabbing his arms and forcing him backward. The wizard's back slammed against the granite and stone wall. Legolas leaned in to protect the Istari as the snow fell upon them, drowning out the voice and the wind. 

There was still light, and Legolas saw the Wizard's face beside him beneath the snow. Gandalf, his beard encrusted with ice, winked at the elf. With a nod, Legolas moved up, punching through the wall of snow and emerging on the other side. 

All of the Company shook away the ice and the elf was glad to see there were no injuries. Though the hobbits' faces were red with windburn. They shivered uncontrollably in the arms of the men. This was not the path to take - perhaps if Saruman had not found them, their travels would have been easier.

Aragorn spoke of turning back. Boromir again brought up the gap, but Strider reminded them all that that way led close to Isengard, and the instrument of their present situation. Legolas' heart fell as again Gimli spoke of Moria. 

The look on the wizard's face frightened the elf. Something terrified Mithrandir, and if an Istari could be set to fear - then the elf knew it was not something he wanted to face as well. Whatever it was inside those dark caverns. In an unexpected twist, the Wizard left the decision of direction to Frodo. 

Legolas let out a moan of disapproval when the Ring Bearer named Moria as their destination. 

Moria. Legolas did not wish to go back there. His gaze sought out Aragorn's in the snowy wind. The Ranger was watching the elf - his own expression reflecting what Legolas felt. Already the elf could feel the walls of those caverns draw in around him. 

As the company turned to make their way back down the pass, the wizard turned to Legolas. The wind had eased, and the elf had not realized he was unmoving, his head hung to his chest, his gaze locked on nothing, and everything. He wasn't aware of any of this until Mithrandir placed a gentle hand on his arm and gave a soft tug. 

"Come, son of Thranduil. We will pass through those dark places quickly. For your sake, as well as mine."

TBC


	4. Dimrill Dale

Again I jump into the world of The Fellowship. I hope I can continue to entertain, and I trust those of you reading this piece will let me know if I go too far. And I'm more fluent in Common Tongue, so if my Sindarin is wonky, please let me know. Enjoy!

**_Disclaime_**_r: I own NOTHING of middle-earth. All places and characters are JRR Tolkein's, and New Line Cinema. NO monies are made from this. It is strictly a work of enjoyment._

**Dimrill Dale**

_The road to Moria. ___

Night came again as the Fellowship descended the Caradhras, and with it accompanied the fear of the unknown, a scout for the descending darkness. Many voices clamored for Gandalf's attention, as musings about their entrance into Moria raised fears yet not addressed. 

Aragorn had traveled the Dimrill Gate, and did not wish to return. He had only to look at his old friend's face to know the Elf was not eager to again step into the darkness. Though he and Legolas' passages had been in the company of the dwarves who lived there, something festered in the Wizard's hesitation and obvious apprehension unnerved the Dúnedan greatly. What frightened Elf and Istari alike set he as mortal to quiver. The Wizard held knowledge of an unforeseen tragedy, but had not as yet spoken of it.

The Nine huddled around a small fire, close not only to warm, but to seemingly shut out all other eyes to their discussion. The hobbits all sat closest to the flame - each holding out their hands and feet in an attempt to melt away the ice. The Wizard paced before them, Gandalf in obvious distress over the Company's disagreement with Frodo's decision. 

Pippin voiced his own displeasure in traveling through Moria. 

Gandalf looked at each of them. "The importance here is not who will not go, but who will. We have little choice anymore - other than to turn back to Imladris, and that I fear, is the road to disaster."

Boromir, whose quiet mood had intrigued Aragorn, spoke up. "What say the Dwarf? Or even the Elf Prince?"

"Prince?" said Pippin, Merry and Sam in unison as they all turned and looked back at the tall, silent archer standing beside Gandalf.

Legolas' expression remained stoic. 

The Gondorian's tone piqued the Ranger's ire. He gave the swordsman a sharp glare that was utterly lost in the shadow and movement of the fire. 

"Nonsense, all of this," Gimli barreled. He placed his hands upon his hips and looked at them all. "My cousin Balin would welcome us with his hospitality. We would be safe, hidden from the caw of foul birds or the flinging of ice and wind from the mountain."

"Did you know he was a Prince?" Pippin hissed to Merry.

Aragorn desired the Dwarf's conviction of welcome and hospitality, but something in the manner of Gandalf's hesitation again prevented any soothing vision as the ones Gimli held. He looked to Legolas, as did the Company.

"Nay," answered Merry. "Shhh..."

The Elf shook his head slowly, his gaze focused on the fire, yet the Ranger knew his friend's thoughts were leagues from here. With an uneasy gaze, he looked at all of them and crossed his arms over his chest. "Elves do not walk in the dark earth."

"Humph," Gimli said, a bit louder than needed. 

But Aragorn knew his friend's words were not directed as an insult to the Dwarf - not entirely. For the Ranger knew how the Elf fared badly beneath the rock and stone, his Elven light nearly extinguished in the dark. Legolas suffered as many Elves did, from their lack of love for things dim and unclear. Underground the archer would be cut off from the trees, the sky and the fresh air. He would, in a sense, be blind. The Elf would see this as a weakness, and would not wish the company to see it as such.

"He's royalty, Mr. Frodo." 

"I heard him, Sam," Frodo put a hand on his friend's stout knee and looked away from the Company and into the darkness. "Listen."

Aragorn heard the Hobbit's conversation peripherally. Only something in the tone of Frodo's voice caused him to look harder at the Ring bearer. Obviously, one would think the Hobbit meant for Sam to listen to the conversation, yet the Hobbit's gaze was cast upward, then around. 

The Elf's stance changed then, only perceived by Aragorn who knew his friend's postures. Legolas' senses had come alive as he turned his Elven sight to the darkness.

"What say you, Boromir?" Gandalf asked, giving the Elf beside him a glance, then retrieved his pipe from his staff. He began the simple task of stuffing the small, wooden bowl. 

Aragorn heard the Gondorian answer that he would not go. Unless his voice was drowned by those of the Company. 

Frodo spoke of the wind of howling wolves. It was then Aragorn knew what it was his senses had detected. They were indeed being watched, only the eyes were feral, and patient, unlike the mountain that did not think and the Crebain's vile excitement. 

This power was subtle, and deadly. 

Legolas' bow was unsheathed immediately, an arrow at the ready. Gimli went for his axe, lain nearest Pippin. Aragorn pulled Andúril from its scabbard and held it ready. Each of the warriors stood with their backs to the fire.

"Wolves, indeed." Gandalf took a heavy pull of his pipe. He did not move, nor did he flinch. "They are not ready to attack, and we still may yet achieve rest. Mayhaps we talk of this tomorrow, when our bones are not so worried, and our hearts less burdened."

The Ranger was surprised at the Istari's calm demeanor. His gaze roamed to Legolas, whose focus remained towards the dark. Aragorn resheathed his sword and nodded to Frodo and Sam, who looked at him with question and fear. "If Gandalf believes they will not attack, then I too will give a little to rest. Be eased, Frodo. You same get some sleep." He looked past them to the two other hobbits. "You too."

Boromir resheathed his own sword, and Aragorn became conscious that he had not noticed the Gondorian's actions. He watched the son of Denethor as he bent close to Merry and Pippin and spoke kindly words of bravery and courage. The two returned his kindness with smiles of their own, then turned their attentions to making their beds beside Sam and Frodo. 

Gimli stood with his axe still in his large hands, his dark gaze searching the night. Aragorn moved past him to Gandalf, who, with a nod, reassured the Ranger that all was well. 

For now. 

He continued on past the Wizard to the edge of the darkness beyond where his old friend stood a measure away, his bow still drawn, an arrow still fitted. His pupils were large, blocking out his blue gaze as he turned that stare to Aragorn. The Ranger detected a slight quiver in Legolas' voice as he whispered. "I do not wish to go into Moria, Estel."

"I know, mellon-nîn," the Ranger sighed softly. "But there is truly no other way - not with the enemy of time behind us. Or Saruman's spies around us. Perhaps, if Balin still rules there, we can achieve safe passage."

The face Legolas turned on Aragorn was fierce, his dark eyes narrowed, his ethereal glow flickering. "You no more believe that than Mithrandir does. I sense something from the West, near the Dimrill Gate. It is dark and ominous as no storm or magic of Saruman can conjure. A shadow sleeps over that place, and there is little laughter that issues from its cracks." He looked away, his gaze again returning to the night, his voice so low, Aragorn wondered if he was meant to hear them the spoken words. "I will be of no help to the Company in that dark place. I will not be able to fulfill promises made..." 

Aragorn knew there was little he could do to alleviate the Elf's fear. It was not often he had seen such distress in his friend, not even during their first treks together through the mines. His mention of promises pulled Aragorn's memories back to the morning of their departure. Had his friend given a promise, or perhaps a vow? Elven vows, those made on the approval of the Valar, were binding. Had Elrond asked something of this Elf, something that threatened to crush his shoulders beneath its burden? "Legolas - what is it that has you so afraid? Surely Gimli fells confident that we will be welcomed, and I am sure there are those that will remember you and I - "

"I cannot speak it." The Elf said as much in a rush. "It covers me like a cloak of dread that cannot be removed." He turned his gaze again to the Ranger. His expression had softened, but in it there was still the trace of fear. "I heard there had not been word from the Dwarves of Moria in a great expanse of time. Has no one ever questioned why? And if we are being directed, steered toward a goal that Saruman desires of us, then it begs for understanding that such a road is filled with danger and peril of a most heinous kind."

Aragorn had not thought on such a question until this moment. Again how sharp was the mind of the archer. His fear had gotten to the very core of what had nagged at the Ranger. It seemed obvious to everyone that Moria would be the quickest - even Gandalf believed so. And yet no one had questioned why the White Wizard was guiding them there. 

"I cannot answer that as of yet, my dear Master Elf," came a graveled voice behind Elf and Ranger. "Only know that Moria is the shortest distance."

The two turned as Gandalf stood between them, his pipe in his hand, his expression solemn. He looked to Legolas, then to Aragorn and nodded. "I know Moria may spell disaster - and the Company may suffer. But sometimes great tragedy renders great deeds."

"I do not like your words, Mithrandir," Legolas' voice was low and he replaced his arrow to his quiver noiselessly. Yet he kept his bow clutched to his chest, cradled in both arms as if the very wood could protect him.

"Keep your senses keen, son of Thranduil," Gandalf nodded to him. "Though you fear the dark, you will still be of aid to the hobbits. Watch for them, and spur them all when it seems that darkness may take us."

"I do not like your words either, Grey Pilgrim," Aragorn said and laid his right hand upon the Wizard's shoulder. The muscle and bone beneath it were sturdier than the Istari's outward appearance would have the average observer believe. "You know something..."

The Wizard smiled and tapped his pipe out into the damp grass. "I know many things, Estel of Imladris. But the future is a twisting path. And so we must bend it our way. Some may fall, but others will survive and flourish under the hand of grief."

"No more!" Legolas stepped away. "I will not hear it," he turned and vanished in the dark. 

Aragorn would follow his friend, but the Wizard put a stealing hand on his shoulder. "Let him go, Aragorn. Legolas will fight his own demons, in his own way. He will not go far, and his senses will be better used away from our sounds of sleep and mutterings." 

Aragorn narrowed his eyes at Gandalf. "You know this night will not go smooth."

"No," Gandalf shook his head as he looked out a the darkness. "It will not. Be ready."

~*~

Legolas ran to the nearest tree. The Elf reached out his right hand and flattened his palm against the soothing, damp bark. Through their trek from the snowy mountain he had pondered his fear, questioned its reason for being. He had traversed the mines before - it was not a new journey for him - and yet his fear of entering those caverns was more pronounced. There was so much more at stake. It was not until realization came crashing down upon him of his promises to keep Estel safe. 

He dropped his bow and wrapped his arms tightly about its trunk. Old was the voice from the tree, the whisper of a grandfather to a troubled grandson. Its reassurances eased the Elf's overwhelming feelings of guilt. He sensed death, had since the talk had turned toward Moria. And Mithrandir had confirmed his fear. _Death awaits us. In the dark of that foul place. There I will be only half myself, immobile in my claustrophobic weakness._

And something awaited them there in the halls of Moria. Even Mithrandir knew the awful truth. There was nothing written on Death's scroll that Estel was its victim - yet it seemed to Legolas that Saruman and his Dark Lord would be after the one who could defeat them. The last of the Númenor. The Valar would hold him to those promises he made with bold bravado and naive strength. 

He held the tree tighter and closed his eyes to the darkness. _I will fail. My hope to protect him, my vows, it will all come to naught._

A small voice within him admonished his behaviour. It held the stern voice of his father, but the loving face of his mother. _Rubbish_, it said. _Death will not come to the Númenor, for you are there to protect him._

_Protect him? _

Legolas nearly laughed at his foolishness. Protect Estel with what meager means he would have at his disposal in the mines? He had never dreamed their paths would lead them to the one place where Legolas believed his abilities would be their weakest. _If the cave walls of Moria do not destroy my resolve, then whatever it was that frightened the Istari would._ Too much he had taken on, and not even the quieting voice of the tree eased his hopeless state. 

With a single step away, his bow in his left hand, Legolas leapt up into the tree and found a place where its branches formed a seat. There he could look out over the Company and the land around them. 

_In this place, beneath the stars, I can hear the trees, the mountains, the streams. But in Moria there is only the deafening silence._

The Elf shivered. He could not allow the others to see his discomfort. Especially the Dwarf, who seemed to relish in the obvious decision to enter his kin's dwelling. Legolas knew they would all step through the gate. But not all would survive.

No, no, no. He squeezed his eyes shut. Such thoughts were folly, indeed. He did not possess the gift of foresight - and yet he felt so sure Death was there, a tangible thing. He did not fear for his own life, for even as a spirit he would break down the doors of Mandos to return and protect Estel. 

A soft hand caressed his cheek. Legolas' eyes snapped open. He looked around, sure that he had felt a physical touch. Perhaps it was the leaves of the tree, caressing its son in comfort. 

There was the touch again, and the wind whispered his name...

_"Alachas Legolas..."_

The voice held the sound of bells in his mind as it spoke his tongue, telling him not to fear. He closed his eyes, unknowingly seeking comfort in the touch on his cheek. His skin grew warm and he recognized Arwen's voice in his mind. 

She was there, beside him. Caressing him. _All will be well, mellon-nîn. You are strong...dare not to despair...protect him... beria meleth nîn. _It was as if she willed her strength to him and his despair eased back to a nagging memory, an ember struggling for life to rekindle in the air.

He returned her thoughts with his own...words he wished he'd said to her on the morn of their departure. _Gar Elessar an gûr. _

The voice lulled him as she whispered to him. Her voice was replaced by the soothing sounds of the tree, the wisp of the leaves in the wind, the sound of a nearby stream trickling toward the Anduin. And the low vibration of a predator nearby...

His opened his eyes - all senses on alert. He leaned forward to see into the night, willing his gaze to see further, better. The tree spoke to him of danger. Of teeth and gnashing strength. 

A wolf. He could see her slow movements along the border of the camp. And something else caught his attention, approaching from the north. It barked and growled, snarled and snapped as it grew closer.

"Legolas?" came Aragorn's voice in the dark. 

_No!_ The wolf heard his friend as well, and the Elf watched as the beast trained its sights on the mortal. _Oh no you will not have him_. He pulled an arrow from his bow. He could see the animal prowling nearer to Estel, and saw the Ranger's own senses come alive as he drew his sword. Legolas could not get a clear shot at the wolf through the leaves. He would have to be on the ground. 

With a slight smile, the Elf leapt from the branch. He landed soundlessly, his stance assuming down upon his left knee as he aimed and let fly his arrow. The cry of the wolf was his reward as he sprang forward and closed the gap between the creature and Estel. The Ranger's eyes were wide as he approached, seeming to appear from the darkness. The wolf moved away, its piteous cries awakening the Company. 

"I give you my thanks," Aragorn said breathlessly. 

"Thank me not, for a much greater foe approaches from the north." 

Aragorn turned as Gandalf let lose the cry. "Wargs!"

That was the great evil the tree had warned him of. The Elf heard the schwinging of swords drawn from scabbard as the Company prepared themselves for battle against the enemy. Legolas chanced a glance behind him at the fire. The hobbits stood in a protective stance before Frodo. Boromir, Gandalf, Gimli, himself and Aragorn stood in a circle, their backs to the fire. 

The Wargs came from the darkness, hideous beasts three times the size of any wolf. Gandalf commanded the hobbits to build the fire higher, though for what purpose the Archer could not guess. 

His questions were soon dissolved as he found himself firing arrow upon arrow at the approaching beasts. They seemed to come at them from all directions, snarling and snapping. He saw Aragorn fell three with his sword, swinging round as he dipped on one knee and removed the head of one then brought the powerful blade around and thrust it into the throat of another. 

Boromir fought as bravely, hacking and thrusting, grunts of strength and attack issuing from his lips. Six he felled in a span of a few quick breaths. But this did little to sway the attack. 

To the Elf's ultimate surprise, the dwarf fought equally as skilled, wielding his axe with the same ease and skill as any swordsman of the Rohan or Gondor. Small in stature, he was able to use this to his advantage, sidestepping several attacks then doubling back upon the Warg with severing blows. 

Again and again Legolas fired, bringing down four more. But this attack was endless as it seemed the forests had opened up and loosed upon them all the Wargs of the world. 

The Elf caught sight of Mithrandir as he wrenched a burning branch from the fire and cast it into the air. Naur an edraith ammen! Naur dan i ngaurhoth! the Grey Pilgrim sang, his voice crying out over the snarling den. 

Legolas nearly dropped his bow and his last arrow as the branch burst into a brilliance too much for his sensitive eyes. Screams of agony filled the night and in reflex, he sensed defiance and strung his arrow. His sight temporarily dulled, he aimed at the emotion and let loose. He saw his arrow burst into flames before it looked to move of its own accord and strike the heart of a what he could only assume was the leader of the pack from its enormity, poised and ready to strike the Company. The creature fell dead at his softly booted feet. 

Sam gave up a cheer when no other Warg charged and the fire quieted down. Sighs and mutterings greeted them all as the hobbits praised men, Wizard, Dwarf and Elf. Legolas moved back a step, away from the Warg. His eyes stung from the Wizard's magic and he needed to sit and recover. 

A small hand found its way into his and he looked down, squinting into a cheery face as it looked up at him. "I saw you look at the flare. Let me help."

Pippin guided him to one of the smaller logs pulled near the fire facing the great tree. Legolas could see where to sit and once down, dropped his bow and put the palms of his hands to his eyes. He knew there was no permanent damage, and sometimes it could be problematic to have such keen senses when they are easily disturbed. He did not see what had become of the Hobbit when he turned to thank him. The elf did not wish to show weakness, but he was Prince enough to know when to return thanks for kindness. 

"Are you well?" This was Aragorn's voice. 

Legolas looked up from his log to see his old friend standing before him, his hand resting on his sheathed sword. The Elf nodded. "The flare of the branch was bright - nearly as bright as Eärendil." He blinked several times. 

Gandalf appeared behind the Dunédan, his aged face housing a smile. "Many thanks, Master Greenleaf. Again your senses aided us, and perchance saved Aragorn's life. The She-wolf was close - and poised to kill. We will have need of those talents of yours in Moria." The Wizard slapped Aragorn's back in affection and moved away. 

There was no argument. The Company would proceed into the mines. But he had known that from the first. The Elf nodded slowly. _Need of my senses? Does he not know I am nearly blind in those caves? I will be little more than Bill the Pony in that place._

"Tell me your thoughts." 

Legolas blanched. His friend had not moved. The Elf shook his head. "I - " but how could he tell his best friend of his fears? They touched upon the promises made and of these the Ranger could not know, lest the telling would diminish their power. He tried to give his friend a weak smile. "It is the old fears. The enclosing walls."

Aragorn's expression hardened though he kept his council to himself. He gave a nod and moved away, and with him, he took his warmth. Legolas lowered his shoulders in defeat. His sight was returning. 

"I've gathered all I could find, Master Legolas," Pippin said as he approached, his arms full of the Elf's arrows. He bent and laid them with great care before the Prince's feet. "I think only one is broken - with only the pointy end left."

Legolas looked into the dirtied and buoyant face of the Hobbit. And to his surprise, he gave the halfling a broad smile and reached out to grip the young one's shoulder. "Many thanks, Master Took. I am in your debt." 

Straightening, his chest thrust out in pride, the Hobbit bowed. "At your service, your Highness." He spun and strolled back to the fire and Sam, Frodo and Merry. 

Legolas gave a long sigh and he looked down to his arrows, wishing all the while that Boromir had not let that bit of information of him slip out. It seems there would be more than the mines and his personal fears to contend with, it seemed. Slowly, his sight restored, Legolas began to inspect the arrows brought to him by the brave Pippin. 

TBC

N/A

**gemstone**: Thank you so much for the compliment - I want to remain as close to the characters as possible, both in the films and the movies. I hope I can keep things spot on. ;)

**Gwyn**: I too noticed how Legolas, in the film, tried to protect Gandalf. He's such a caring Elf! Now, about your updates…???

**White Wolf**: The whole movie? All Three? Or just the Fellowship? In the worlds of Legolas Greenleaf, "Ai! Ai!" 

**muggles**: I'm trying to keep a nice mix between the two. This part is definately leaning more toward the book. Leaning only. ;)

**JDFielding**: Updating frequently is going to get harder. Now with SAB started - but I'll do my best.


	5. The Sirannon

**Disclaimer: **I own NOTHING of middle-earth. All places and characters are JRR Tolkein's, and New Line Cinema. NO monies are made from this. It is strictly a work of enjoyment.

**The Sirannon**

_The Road to Moria continues…_

The euphoria over the Warg victory was short lived as the morning turned the journey of the Nine Walkers toward Moria. A dull canopy of clouds blocked the sun's cheerful rays, and cast the Company in a gray world of foreboding not easily shaken. By mid-morning, the Wizard and Dwarf were vexed as to their direction to the gates, for the land had changed much and their bearing was in question. 

Aragorn watched from his position in the last. _Even I cannot tell the landmarks - long has it been that I have traveled this road. I remember the river Sirannon, swiftly leading to the city's very doors._ Yet of the great river there remained only the ghosts of past surges of nature, for no living thing remained in this land. Nothing stirred the air. No bird. No animal. Their only inspiration was of red stone. It was a bleak spot of land, and seemed to prelude their journey into the dark mines. 

The Ranger had also taken note of the Elf's lagging pace. Where upon the beginnings of their journey, Legolas had ventured ahead of their party, playing the sharp-sensed scout prepared and ready to warn them of eminent danger, he now fell further back, walking a slow pace before Aragorn, several steps behind Sam and Bill. Though Legolas' expression remained ever stoic, devoid of any telltale emotion of what played in his mind or heart, Aragorn did not miss the First Born's furtive glances to his left and right, nor did he miss his old friend's hesitation at times. Once or twice the Elf cast a glance back, as if reassuring himself that Aragorn still walked behind him. 

And though there seemed no threat from above or below, the Elf had unshouldered his bow since the beginning of their trek and kept it close - at the ready.

"Ah, there is something," the Dwarf called out ahead of them. He and the Wizard increased their pace. 

Aragorn overtook the Elf and touched the fair being's shoulder. Legolas flinched, though not in distaste of the mortal's hand, but in surprise. The Ranger was in dismay that his friend's thoughts seemed so distracted, and that his entire body was set tense. Legolas' knuckles shown white where he clutched his bow in his left hand as Aragorn spoke in the grey tongue. "Trenar enni neth trasta, mellon-nîn?" 

Legolas turned bright eyes to Aragorn. His pupils were dilated wide, though plenty of light still remained beneath the shadowed sky. The Elf's skin was pale as moonlight. 

He gave Aragorn a faint smile. "As I told you before - it is the old fears. Let it not trouble you - for the doors of Moria may escape us if we are not diligent in our attentions." He gave Aragorn a slight bow and moved ahead, abruptly matching his gait to that of the Dwarf, Gandalf and Frodo. 

Frustration so great as to bring forth anger emerged in Aragorn, and he gave a soft curse in the grey tongue. _Confound Elves and their pride. You think I am blind, old friend? That I cannot see the fear behind your bright eyes? I fear too - for I understood the foretelling of the Istari. Moria holds danger - to any of us._

Boromir slowed his walk as Aragorn approached, and as Merry, Sam and Pippin escorted the pony by, the Gondorian cast a glance to the Ranger. "Does the Elf Prince sense something? Danger?" He glanced about the gloom.

Since the warg attack, the Gondorian appeared more secure in the Elf's abilities, ever watchful of Legolas' actions and moods. This trust harkened hope to Aragorn, that perhaps his misgivings as to the warrior's motives may prove false. Yet it was not his place to speak of fears personal to his old friend, and so he replied, "He did not speak of danger to the Fellowship – for him, it is an old malady of the First Born. The cold mountains, beneath rock and stone, do not set well upon their nature. And I would ask you - do not tarry upon his rank and breed, for Legolas Greenleaf has never dwelt himself upon it. He would simply be known as Elven-kind, and nothing more. I can speak for his agility, his archery skills, and exceptional sword handing."

The Gondorian narrowed his eyes as his gaze swept over Aragorn. After a brief time, he gave a curt nod. "I will honor that, though it grieves me to think of his father's wrath if any harm came to his son. A King torn from his child is a vastly vengeful being."

The Ranger dipped his head to his right shoulder. "Aye...but if we do not succeed in our quest and destroy the Ring - then King Thranduil's rage will mean nothing as it slips quietly, and meekly, into the shadow of Mordor."

Boromir seemed poised to give a retort, but was interrupted by Gimli's sudden outburst.

"I see a path," Gimli pointed at the ruined, mountainous land that stretched before them. "Or rather the ghost of one that once was. It seems the ancient High Road is no more."

Indeed, there was little left but the smallest of edges of what had once been a well traveled way of commerce. Aragorn looked about him and bid despair and fear to be gone. 

"The gate should be there," Gandalf pointed to something the Ranger could not see. "I think if we should traverse that ridge, we may yet find the path."

No one spoke as the Istari again proceeded forward. Frodo turned and gave Aragorn a look that spoke of hope, but whether the small Hobbit gave it freely to the Ranger, or was asking him of it, Aragorn did not know. He turned and motioned the other hobbits to follow. 

Again the Company moved in silence, their attentions bent on scaling the rough terrain, until Aragorn heard Sam say, "Well that's not a sight common to the Shire." 

The broken path led to a sharp bend, and there loomed before them a mountain, cleanly cut where once there had been a fall of water that fed to the Sirannon. Water still came, but its trickling was a mockery to the cascade it once housed. Below, spreading out to the very edges of Moria's walls, was a lake, its water as black and unforgiving as the skies surrounding Barad-dûr. 

"The Stair Falls are all but gone," Gimli said, and his voice carried with it the shock and woe of disappointment. "And the Sirannon has been damned."

"Aye," Gandalf said in a low voice. "This water is too deep, and too full of an evil I cannot fathom. I suggest we find a way around it to reach the doors.

Aragorn sensed the entire company's fear, though the Elf's to him was most poignant. In their years together he had always seen the Elf as a light hearted soul, filled with sometimes wreckless bravado. Now he seemed overly cautious, and stood on the water's edge. 

The Ranger paused to the right of Legolas as the Company followed Gandalf in a single file. Gimli seemed the only member of the Fellowship still brimming with excitement and impatience. 

Legolas' stare was locked upon the water, and he held his bow to his chest. His lips were drawn into a thin line and his eyes moved back and forth. "I do not like the water, Strider."

Whether he was only moved by the Elf's obvious fear, or by his own distrust of something so black it hid from view its depths, Aragorn did not know. But he too felt something ominous. Watching. Waiting. But for the Ranger, the danger seemed to come from more than the water. "It is only its stillness, Legolas." He did not believe his words, but he felt compelled to quell the Elf's fears. 

"Nay. Something waits for us." The archer turned to his right and faced Aragorn. His eyes were nearly black and wide. "I can feel it there..."

"Stop this, Legolas," Aragorn put a hand on his old friend's shoulder. "It is only water. Stilled by a damn of someone else's making."

"We should not be here."

"We have no choice."

The Archer tilted his head to his left shoulder. "Really? I wonder." And he was gone, turned from the Ranger in a split second, his movements fast and full of purpose as he skirted the water's edge behind Boromir. 

Riddles. The Elf spoke in so many of them since their departure. The ire in Aragorn wanted nothing more than a small space of privacy where he might in some fashion take his old friend by the shoulders and shake him and demand to know his mind. There he would rattle answers to questions not yet formed, that tickled at the very edges of his worry. Something ate away at the Prince, and yet the Elf refused to allow their friendship to be the bond that it was. 

Had been. 

How long had it been since he and Legolas had seen one another? Ten years? Twenty? The son of King Thranduil seemed distant and such a distance broke Aragorn's heart. Yet in their experience together, never had the Elf given a warning, a feeling, or a thought that had not proven to be true in some fashion. If Legolas insisted there was danger – then Aragorn would be ready to defend against it. 

~*~

Cold. It seeped inside of soul. Not the frigid taint of climate, but of the blackness of nothing. Devoid of life, of sound, of sunlight. That was what lay ahead of him. And he quailed inside with the dread of it. _Stop this_, he chided himself quietly, careful to keep his expression unreadable. _You will alert all manner of foul thing to your temper - and it will be your undoing. Think. Concentrate. Be the fighter you are._

_I am no fighter when my own fears bind my will._

Legolas still held his bow to his chest. He looked down at it as he paused behind Boromir while the Gondorian bent forward to climb a jagged stretch of rock. They had come quickly about the damned river, the Wizard asking Legolas to see ahead where a small area banked away and nothing but a stream separated the Company from their goal. Still in the open, he could see, and hear, and breath the fresh air. 

But the gates...

And the water. He did not trust its murky black depths. When he looked inside it, he heard faint words of warning and he shivered. He feared he would succumb to that gnawing terror that drove him to despair of failure. _No, think not of this. Estel is safe. He watches you._

Legolas knew his friend's heart ached for a word, something of comfort to deliver his own fears and to council him. But the Prince feared speaking too often, for he needed his old friend now, and yet was unavailable to enjoy in his company. For with their bond the Prince of Mirkwood feared he would tell of his vows, his fears would drive his need of comfort, and his confidence with Arwen would be compromised. 

No - it was best to be the assassin, the scout, the keen eye and ear of the Company. And cowering behind his personal fears should not be tolerated, by him, least of all. He felt Strider behind him, waiting for him to ascend the rocky cropping behind the Gondorian. With a deep breath that wreaked of sterile air, he squared his shoulders, reshouldered his bow and nimbly climbed the rocks. 

Seeing that Merry and Pippin were having a time climbing and Boromir was aiding Sam in Bill's ascent, Legolas ran to the two hobbits. Bracing himself behind, he put a hand to each of their backs. Pippin swung round and his worried, haggard face broke into a wide smile. "Thank you, your highness."

Legolas kept his silence for the time being, though made a slight promise to himself to speak to the endearing Hobbit about his rank and meaning. He would prefer the halfing enjoy his company for who he was and not what. 

Ahead, Gandalf had pulled Frodo aside and the two were speaking in hushed whispers. Legolas moved quickly passed them. His keen ears heard the emploring in the Wizard's voice. Gandalf was afraid - the Istari's every movement was lost to hesitation and irritation. He worried for Frodo, and the issue of his worry centered upon the Gondorian. Legolas' heart clenched at the implications of the Wizard's words, yet he knew with them came truth. _My heart aches for Boromir, for his path is as murky as this foul water, and just as dark._

Ahead, Gimli's voice broke the Elf's harried thoughts. "The walls...of Moria."

Indeed, the walls were before them, a majesty of height and enormity. He could not see over their tops as the very tips reached the cloud canopy overhead. Nor had the Elf realized the length of their journey, for the sun had now set behind those incredible heights. Soon they would be surrounded by dark night and cold.

"Its heights nearly rival that of Ecthelion," Boromir said softly, and the Elf turned to his left to look upon the Gondorian, whose face was set in awe as his gaze followed along with the wall's enormity. Legolas' heart reached out for this warrior, whose light in the Elf's eyes, shined of honor and duty in these dim lands. 

"There," Gandalf said. "There is the shallow stream Master Greenleaf spied before. From there we walk along the wall's edge till we find the doors." The Wizard turned a glance behind him to the Company. "Single file is safest. Keep your eyes and ears open." The last was said with a lingering gaze upon Legolas. 

The Prince gave a nearly imperceptible nod. The Istari still believed in him - in his abilities. _Surely Mithrandir knows my heart - or at least can sense my ill-feelings. Perhaps he chooses to ignore them._ Yet as long as the Wizard still held hope, it buoyed Legolas' inner strength. Again he reminded himself of vows made. Despair and fear would not aid their quest - and it would not sit well upon the High Born to retell the tale of one of their own folding in battle to the fears of a Dwarven home. 

He stood to the side as did Boromir as the hobbits Merry and Pippin came by. Sam followed with the pony in tow and as Aragorn followed, Legolas felt his friend's eyes searching for his. 

_I cannot confide in you yet, my brother._ Legolas kept his gaze fixed upon the hobbits and did not turn his attention to the Ranger. Aragorn walked past slowly, his head down.

Unable to bear his friend's heavy heart any longer, Legolas started forward, bent on speaking with the Ranger. But a voice called a name in his ear. He stopped, only peripherally aware of Boromir's gaze upon him. 

Before the Archer was the company, filing inside the small stream that separated them from the walls. To his right was the lake and from there the whispers came. He thought it was perhaps Strider calling to him, the Ranger having turned and tread back. But he clearly saw his friend ahead helping Sam with Bill. 

Whispers. Caught on the wind again. One commanding - one answering. __

_watching...._

There it was! A voice that churned and roiled with power, striking at the very core of the Elf's being. It came on the wind and there was an answer, deep below the murky surface. The voices murmured inside his head. The tones played along the air around him, yet called from the lake's depths. Something...someone...called to the stagnant pool...

...and something had called back. 

"What is it you see?" Boromir was close, his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Name it - show to me its form and I will slay it."

Legolas narrowed his eyes at the lake as the voice died away, a call vanishing into the waters. The voices no longer whispered. All was silence, though he strained to find more evidence to what had happened. He turned his face to the Gondorian. "I cannot show what plays in my mind. When I can, I will be there beside you to defend our Company. But I would ask this of you, Boromir of Gondor - be on guard - and watch the water, for it watches us." With that, he turned and moved quickly away. 

Only to nearly walk into the Dwarf who stood at the stream's beginnings. He had not followed the others, and his gaze was fixed uncomfortably upon Legolas. The Elf schooled his features. "Master Dwarf."

Gimli nodded. "Master Elf. 'Tis a monument, is it not? To Dwarven ingenuity and craftsmanship?" He nodded back to the wall. "This road was once traveled by Dwarf and Elf alike, a path of commerce between our people." The Dwarf turned and began to pick his way through the thin stream before the Elf. "Alas...such relations might have continued…had it not been for the Elves."

Legolas balked. His feet rooted to the muddy sand as his dark brows furrowed in contempt. How dare this creature? _He would insult my people and then be so bold as to turn his back upon me?_ The Prince bristled as he replied. "I do not recall hearing it was the fault of the Elves."

"Gimli!" came Gandalf's voice from the Company's front. "Legolas! Please! An end to this. Master Elf, I need your senses."

As he moved forward, his hands balled into fists, Legolas cast a glance sideways at Gimli. To his surprise, the Dwarf's expression was full of mirth as he pretended not to notice the Elf's scrutiny. The Prince continued past him, nimbly walking along the slippery rocks, a small grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. _The Dwarf bated me in jest! Could it be the creature senses my foul temper and wishes to lighten my heart? _Such a thought interested the Elf, and he considered it as he approached the Wizard.

Mithrandir took Legolas beneath his left arm, directing the two away from the others. The Istari's pallor was as gray as his robe. His eyes were sunken and haunted. Legolas felt panic rise inside of him, and quickly quelled it as the Wizard spoke in Sindarin. "Do you hear them?"

It was not difficult to know what the Istari spoke of. "I hear them, in the water. One voice to another."

"Aye," Mithrandir swallowed. "Look about us at all times. Keep yourself tuned to what is happening in the open," he turned then and swung his full intent blue gaze on the Elf. "In the halls of Dwarrowdelf, you might discover you are not as blind as you fear." Switching to the Common Tongue, the Wizard spoke a bit louder. "And it would do well if you two tried to make some progress toward a small friendship."

Playing along with the Istari's game, Legolas gave him a nod and stepped away as the Wizard moved forward. Gandalf worried for all of them, and again, Legolas felt that weight as heavy on his shoulders as the vows he'd made to Arwen, and promises to the sons of Elrond.

Time passed slowly as the the Company continued in single-file upon the small space of rock and slime between the Walls and the lake. Darkness descended. Gandalf lead the way by the moon's light, followed by Frodo, Merry and Pippin. Gimli came next, tapping his axe against the rock walls every so often. Boromir followed behind the Dwarf, then Legolas, Sam, Bill the pony, and Strider.

The Dwarf's tapping made it hard for Legolas to listen for the return of the voices, and he wished to silence the inane noise with a well placed barb – if not a physical snatching away of the weapon, followed by a tap upon the Dwarf's helm. But though Gandalf had used the ruse of scolding the Elf as a means to gain information, Legolas knew there had also been truth behind those words. As a Fellowship they needed to work together, and as a Prince in his father's Kingdom, he had been taught diplomacy worked best for the sake of all. 

_If only he'd cease that infernal tapping - for I could think of many other uses for that axe._

"Dwarf doors are invisible when closed." Tap…tap…tap.

"Yes Gimli..." Gandalf answered from ahead and his voice echoed eerily between the wall and lake. "If their own Masters cannot find them, then their secrets are forgotten."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Legolas blanched inwardly. He had not meant to speak his thoughts aloud. He waited for Gandalf's admonishment, or perhaps a retort from the Dwarf. But Gimli remained quiet...

...save for the inane tapping, which seemed to gain in frequency and volume.

A brush of life touched Legolas' cheek. He knew that touch, having lived with it all his life among the forests of Greenwood the Great. It was the faint call of a tree, the easing of a sigh on the wind. The Elf looked forward to where Gandalf stood – and there gazed upon two trees! The Elf hurried his pace, his left hand out as he came to the first. It appeared dead and withered in the moonlight. Yet, as his palm caressed the cold bark, that same life that had kissed his waning spirit rekindled. It surged through him and soothed his Elven heart, reassuring him that even in the darkest places, there is hope. There is life. 

He sensed Pippin near him, watching him, concern radiating from the innocent halfling in small waves, and the Elf became aware his eyes had closed as he'd listened to the calming tree. He opened them and looked down at the Hobbit, yet he was unsure of what to say.

"They speak to you…don't they?" the Hobbit's voice was small and soft. 

Legolas nodded as he knelt beside Pippin, and he afford him a small smile. "I gain strength from them as much as I do from the sun."

Pippin looked up at the baren tree and frowned. "This one can't have very many happy things to tell you."

"In truth, Master Took – it tells me about hope."

Gandalf had moved to the flat area of wall between the trees. He ran his hands along the rock, muttering of isildin and starlight. And moonlight. 

As she clouds moved from the moon overhead, Legolas' keen ears detected a hum, a thrumming of power and before them all the doors of Moria came into view, twinkling and shimmering as if carved of Mithril. The Archer stepped forward, no words coming to him to describe the beauty of that door, such a miasmic venture of Dwarven and Elven workmanship, and it did sadden him to know such a mixing of talents had all but disappeared in the world. 

A small hand touched his and Legolas looked down to see Pippin smiling up at him. He returned the squeeze and joined in with the small Hobbit to listen to the Wizard as he read aloud the Elvish words upon the door. 

"The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter."

"What do you suppose that means?" Pippin asked, his hand still clenched inside of the Elf's.

Legolas did not hear the Wizard's response as his attention was taken briefly back to the water to the rear of their attention. Where the water had been still before, with only the brushes of the wind upon its surface, it moved now, rippling and roiling. Something disturbed it, yet the Elf could not see what.

Gandalf was still speaking in different tongues when Legolas looked back. He cast a glance over at Frodo who was looking a bit more disappointed. Whatever the Wizard had tried, had not worked. The tall Istari took his staff and pushed it against the doors. 

"Nothing's happening," Pippin said to Legolas as the Elf glanced down at him. _No_, Legolas' thoughts diverted to the lake. _Many things are happening, only we cannot tell which are friend and which are foe._

"I once knew every spell in all the tongues of Elves or Men or Orcs..." Gandalf was heard to mutter to himself as he stepped back from the uncooperative wall. He placed his hands upon his hips. 

"What are you going to do?" Pippin asked innocently.

"Knock on the doors with your head, Peregrin Took," Gandalf's voice was as a weapon wielded with the emotions of frustration and anger. 

Legolas moved protectively before the Hobbit, angered briefly by the Istari's apparent disregard for the small half-ling's feelings. _What would Pippin know of such things_, he wondered to himself, yet did not possess the want to ask it aloud. He did not wish the Wizard's wraith placed on himself, and yet he would defend the small creature against the same.

Again and again the Istari spoke, cursed, yelled, muttered and chanted. As as the night grew later and mist formed over the water's surface, its repeated motion disturbing both Elf and Man, one thing had become painfully apparent. 

The doors of Moria remained closed. 

TBC

"Trenar enni neth trasta, mellon-nîn?" (tell to me what troubles you, my friend?)

I had all intentions of getting to reveiws – only the site had too much traffic and it's getting late. I hope I haven't disappointed anyone! 


	6. The Doors of Durin

**Disclaimer:** I own NOTHING of middle-earth. All places and characters are JRR Tolkein's, and New Line Cinema. NO monies are made from this. It is strictly a work of enjoyment.

Wow. Long distance between updates. I do apologize. Been working on an RPG site, but I promise to keep updating more regular now that that url's up. 

On this installment, I've taken more liberty as to what occurred while Gandalf footled about with the doors. I believe I may have relied more on the book this time, than the movie (as I wrote this in O'ahu and had no opportunity to slip in my DVD!). 

**Ryoko** – Please…don't sit at your desk! ^_^

**White Wolf** – I hope I continue to entertain – AND keep the water nasty! ^,,^

**NaughtyNat** – Glad you enjoy. Whose my favorite character? You're right when you say I lean toward Legolas. Definitely pervy Elf lover. VBG

**Alexa** – yes, I too wondered since reading the Silmarrillion, that being inside the earth has to be completely disorienting. Especially for a First Born. And so I wondered what his true feelings would be. I hope I don't disappoint.

**The Doors of Durin**

The road to Moria continues…

A gold leaf fell lightly on the table, though the breeze carried it a few inches further away. Most all the trees were bare, spines reaching up to an overcast sky of gray and silver. No sunshine broke through the gloom that had canopied the forest city of Imladris. It was as if the elements warred against her skills, as light as they were. 

The Elf maiden reached out to capture the delicate leaf and held it close to her tear-stained cheek. What little life was left inside its small veins lended their strength to hers, and with this tiny assurance of hope, she opened her eyes and looked down in the silver bowl upon the table. The breeze rippled the water's surface as her reflection stared back at her. 

Her grandmother had taught her how to hone the skill to see visions within the crystal water - though Arwen possessed no Elven Ring of Amiroth to aid her. The Undomiel had discovered under Galadriel's tutelage that she had a small gift for touching the mind and heart of those most dear to her. Her father had kept his visions of foresight private since the Company had departed, and her entreaties for any word or glimpse of Estel's whereabouts had fallen on deaf ears. 

Only in her dreams, or in the darkest hours of the night, did she sense him, alive, brave, strong - and deeply troubled. Legolas' thoughts and feelings were easiest to touch, for his vows bound him to her.

The Prince's fears had called to her the night before, awakening her dreams. Arwen had sat up in her bed and closed her eyes, touching Legolas' cheek with her hand, reaching across the miles to comfort him, to ease his fears. She was as surprised as he had been at her intimate contact - and again she was reassured the Valar had blessed his friendship with Estel. She had felt the tree beneath the prince, heard his thoughts as whispers in her mind. He had been afraid, though she was unsure of where the fear came from. What could one of the First Born see with such apprehension? 

She did not have her answer that night - for just as she had felt his mind and eased his fears, the Prince's presence was gone. Arwen could only assume something had taken his concentration from her. Arwen did not know if the Prince's fear was for Estel, or for himself. Or if her words had assured Legolas of his strengths. 

And now she sat before her silver bowl, a present from her grandfather. The cloudy afternoon kept record of the failed attempts at calling forth any visions, and before her - before her stood her own fear of failure. Of being alone. Of traveling to the Gray Havens only half a being without Estel. And though her father's wish was for her to accompany him to Valinor, it surprised her that he did not realize her death awaited her there, for without Estel, grief would take her instead to the Halls of Mandos. 

Estel's final declarations of futile love still rang loud in her mind. She had only Legolas' parting words to sustain her. She chose the Prince's words, for whom else other than herself should know the Ranger's mind and heart? Their friendship was of a bond so strong that at times she envied Legolas Estel's love and devotion._ Surely he would not turn away from the Elven Prince, as he had turned from his heart's desire. _

No. Such thoughts would aid neither herself nor Legolas. Again she pondered his fear, yet was unsure of its source. What had happened along the road to bring such trepidation to the Archer? It could not be that something had befallen Estel, or she would know. She had gathered the sense that it was something that lay ahead of them, and so now this was why she had taken the bowl and the water, in hopes that she could somehow see the future. 

If not for Legolas, but for herself. And the safety of Estel, for though she had accepted the Prince's vow freely, she knew he would need her support. He and the Ranger had survived many journeys together, but in the past, the very heart of Mordor had not been the threat upon their lives. 

Releasing the leaf upon the table, Arwen blew softly into the water, creating her own ripples upon its smooth surface. She controlled her breathing, cleared her mind and focused on the patterns of life.

At first her excitement as the water became mist and spilled over the side supported her confidence. Perhaps she did possess her Father's gift after all, and it was her own fear that had released it. But then the mist vanished and blackness remained. She saw water. Only water. And it was several minutes before she realized it was not the mirrored surfaced of the silver bowl she saw, but a black pool. Seemingly endless in its enormity. Mist surrounded it, and she felt as if there were mountains nearby. Dark. Tall. Foreboding.. 

Familiar. 

Many times had Arwen made the journey over the Misty Mountains to Lorien. She could trace the paths in her sleep. Long has she lived in Middle Earth and traveled down many roads. And these mountains - she knew them. Though only from a distance. They were old and full of a darkness that dwelled beneath. 

Terror clutched at her throat and she moved away from the table. Breath came harsh, and she gasped as the realization of the Fellowship's destination dawned upon her. She clutched at her neck, willing herself to breath, to calm the clamor of her heart. The cause of Legolas' fear was now apparent.

_Moria...they are traveling into Moria!_

~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Gandalf's continuous ministrations with the gate had become a steady accompaniment to the lake's unearthly silence as Strider watched the water. He sat on the black, rocky shore, the moon above the only illumination save for the door behind them. Merry sat on his left, while Pippin fidgeted on his right. Their conversation had been light and sporadic, its content always directed back to food.

What unnerved the Ranger most about the water was its utter quiet, save for the occasional ripple that came toward shore from somewhere in the center. He doubted anything could live in its murky brackishness. Yet what caused the motion? _And why am I pestered by the feeling that something is watching us?_

"What does he see?" Pippin said softly and Strider looked down at the halfling.

"Who see?"

"The Prince," he pointed to where Legolas stood at the water's edge, several feet away from the three. He stood as still as stone, save for the occasional turn of his head. The breeze that moved the mist across the water brushed the Elf's flaxen hair about his shoulders. His bow was shouldered, but his arms were out at his sides, his long fingered hands spread wide. The Elf's entire bearing was tense, alert, ready in case of danger. 

"I do not know, Pippin," Strider put a hand on the Hobbit's shoulder. "But be confident that if there is danger, Legolas will let us know."

Pippin nodded slowly, his gaze still resting upon the Elf. 

"I think he's glowing." Merry said from Strider's other side. "Is he glowing?"

Strider turned to Merry. "Yes. Elves have an inner light that is sometimes seen in dark places."

"I don't remember seeing it in Rivendell."

"Because there is the light of good there, in the Last Homely House."

Merry smiled. 

Pippin tugged on Strider's sleeve and the Ranger looked back to the younger Hobbit. "Why didn't he tell us he was a Prince?"

"Does such a thing matter?"

"No..." the Hobbit looked up at Strider, his own shaggy hair moving in the cold breeze. "It - I was just surprised, that's all. I mean...that a Prince would go with us. This is a dangerous quest. I don't know much about Princes and Kingdoms," he grinned, "we don't have Kings and Queens in the Shire. But I would assume that he being a Prince - I mean - wouldn't his Kingdom rather their Prince remain at home?"

It was a valid question, and one Strider had not thought anyone within their company would think to ask, so he was not prepared to answer. Legolas should give the reason, but Strider thought the Elf might not be in the right mood. "Legolas volunteered because he believes in the survival of Middle-Earth. His land of Mirkwood has been under attack by the evils of Mordor since long before you or I were born. I do not believe his Father will be happy of his son's choice in quests once he learns of it - but I think King Thranduil will understand." Strider didn't believe much of what he said, having been subjected to the Elven King's temper on many occasions. Legolas and his Father had not been in agreement with many things for an untold number of years. 

_I don't know the cause, and one day, when the war of this ring is over, I intend on having a long adventure with my old friend to discover the why._

Sam was heard to speak softly a small walk away. He stroked Bill's mane lovingly, and was talking softly to the animal as he removed the Company's provisions. Gandalf had given him the task of unpacking the pony, with the simple reason that the beast of burden would not be welcome in Moria. 

A plopping sound brought Strider's attention round back the water. Heavily ripples moved what bits of rotted wood floated near the shore. Something had moved close by. He turned in time to see Merry attempt what he believed was a second rock into the water. Catching the Hobbit's upper arm to stop the throw, the Dunédan leaned in close and spoke. "Do not disturb the water."

With a squeeze of Pippin's shoulder, Strider stood and made his way carefully over the rocks to the roundish Hobbit. He passed behind Legolas. The Elf remained where he was, unmoving, staring into the water. Strider sensed his friend's turmoil, though whether it was from the water or their eminent descent into the mines, he could not be sure. 

"It's not fair, Strider," Sam said softly as the Ranger approached. "He's just an animal. He'll catch his death of cold out here. And what if he wonders these mountains and never gets home?"

"He'll be fine." Strider helped remove two of the packs, one of them containing several wrapped packages of arrows. "The mines are no place for a pony, Sam." 

"It's like he doesn't even care, Mr. Strider, Sir." Sam sniffed and wiped the tear away with a chubby hand.

"Who?"

The Hobbit looked toward the gates. "Mr. Gandalf. I know Wizards aren't Hobbits, or Men, or Elves - but they must have hearts. He doesn't even care what happens. He'll be out here all alone."

Something in the air changed and Strider looked up to see Legolas approaching them. The Elf's expression was stoic, as per usual with the Archer. Yet his stance was much relaxed. The Elf reached out and stroked the pony's forehead, speaking softly in Elvish as he let the pony nuzzle his side. 

"What is he saying?" Sam said to the side to Strider. 

But it was Legolas that answered, his blue gaze fixed on the burly Hobbit. "I told Bill not to fear. He will find his way home, Sam. He will go to Rivendell first, and from there Lord Elrond will see that he makes his way back to your Gaffer."

Sam's complexion grew a bright red and nodded, nay - nearly bowed - several times. "I'm thanking you, your Highness. I - I never expected you to..."

Strider watched as Legolas reached over the pony and grasped Sam's hand. The Hobbit's eyes widened as he looked into the gaze of the Elf. "Sam...here, in this place, on this journey, I am simply an Archer. I am here to serve Frodo and protect him."

And with this said, Strider saw the nearly imperceptible glance his old friend gave him. It was quick, merely a flicker, but it was there. Dunédans were trained to notice the smallest detail, a good skill in tracking. 

But what did it mean?_ Oh if only I could read your mind, mellon nîn. I would discover what it was that has separated us. _

Sam put his other hand on Legolas' and gave a shy nod. "Yes your high - Mr. Legolas - sir. You're being incognito, right? Just like Mr. Frodo traveled as Mr. Underhill from the Shire?"

Strider couldn't' help the laugh that escaped his lips, though he was able to keep the volume of it low. Legolas pulled his hand away and gave a quick nod to the Hobbit. "Yes, Master Sam. I am..incognito."

"I'll keep it quiet from now on," Sam beamed a smile. 

With a final look to Strider the Elf turned to leave. Strider continued to help the Hobbit unpack Bills' saddle bags, though his attention and gaze returned to the retreating Elf. _I will know your secrets, my dear friend. I do not have Arwen's love on this dangerous road...I will not survive it without your friendship. _

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

If truth were told, he had not spoken to the pony as such; instead the Elf had told the small beast that he envied him. He wished to trade places with the pony, and to leave this dark place. Ah, but these are not the thoughts of my father's son. And he was cast me into no good light if he knew them. 

As he moved away from the Ranger and Sam, the Elf once again found himself face to face with the Dwarf. Gimli stood with his axe before him, again leaning upon it and the Elf began to wonder if the weapon was not somehow a living extension of the small, irritating creature.

"Master Gimli," Legolas nodded and made to move around the Dwarf. 

But Gimli moved in front of him, his eyes twinkling, though his mouth, a small bow of a thing, was hidden inside the thick, red beard that covered the lower half of his face. "You did a good thing there, Lad. The Hobbit has been distraught since Gandalf spoke so harshly of the beastie." He leaned forward, casting a glance to his side as Boromir passed by in the direction of Strider and Sam. "Will the pony do as you tell him?"

Thinking now was not the time or place to display the honesty he held a creed to live by, the Prince of Mirkwood gave a small nod. The lie in and of itself wasn't a large one, for he knew if the pony escaped their present location, he would find his way back to the Elves. Though from there, enjoying the hospitality of Elrond's home, he doubted the pony would travel on to the Shire. 

The Dwarf seemed pleased with this answer and moved aside. Again Legolas was confused by the Dwarf's behavior. For what purpose was this? He moved past, his direction intent upon the farthest tree - the second of the sentinels of the gate. He needed their strength as the whispers of whatever lived beneath the waters had grown more insistent. He would need strength and soon, even if he wasn't sure what it was he sensed danger from. 

As he passed, he noticed Frodo sitting alone on a large boulder, his back to the gate, his own gaze focused upon the water. With a longing look to the tree, and a glance at the Wizard who wailed and rallied, his hands held high, Legolas turned and nimbly scaled the rocky coast to the Hobbit. 

As he knelt beside Frodo, the Ring Bearer spoke. "Thanks."

The Elf turned a quizzical eye to Frodo. 

"For what you said to Sam. He has a big heart, and I'm afraid of someone's off-handedly cruel words breaking it. I am used to Gandalf's moods, and having Bilbo for an Uncle, I am doubly prepared for such brackish answers and seemingly bullish comments. But Sam is not prepared." He focused his large, expressive blue eyes upon the Elf. "And I fear for his innocent heart."

"Aye," Legolas nodded. "He is a naive soul, and a good friend. Ever are his thoughts concerned with you and your well being."

"Can you read minds, Legolas?"

The Elf smiled at this. It was a common question, given from Men to Elves. "At times I can, though not as well as others. I had a friend once, that such a gift was given to him by the Valar at birth and often I would be troubled with his presence for I could keep no secrets from him."

"Where is he?"

Legolas took in a deep breath, quelling old pains that accompanied such feelings. "He is gone to the Halls of Mandos, Master Frodo." He looked at the water. "Why do you ask about my reading minds?"

"Because you seem to know things - and I know much of your insight is your keen sense. But you knew of what Sam needed to hear, and though his thoughts are most evident in his simple actions, I feel you can look into his mind. As I sometimes sense you in mine." 

Legolas turned his gaze to look directly in the Ring Bearer's blue eyes. "There is something hidden within your speech, Master Hobbit. If you doubt my skill or devotion..."

"No, no - please. You must forgive me for I am tired and this," he put a hand to his chest where Legolas guessed the Ring rested. "it takes from me, minute to minute. I do not speak of what I mean." He looked to his right, in the direction of Strider and Sam. Legolas noticed that Boromir now helped in the pony's freedom of burden. "It is Strider."

"Strider?"

"Why do you pull away from him when he needs you now?"

The Elf moved back, still crouched. He knew he frowned at the Hobbit, but his expression did not change or bend the earnestness he sensed from the halfling. "I - I do not pull away from him."

"Yes, you do. You have much on your mind, and since we have been driven to take this road, you pull further and further away from him. He watches you - just as I watch Sam. And he worries about you, just as I worry for Sam."

Legolas was touched at the Hobbit's words._ How could such a small creature, not First or Second Born, be so perceptive to me? He has touched upon the commonalities between our two friends and he has seen._ "I care for Aragorn as well, but my first devotion and pledge is to protect you and the ring."

Frodo nodded and he turned his electric gaze back to the water. "I know. But...friends are hard to come by in these times, and I sense Aragorn...Strider...is a good man. An honest one, and maybe he could fulfill the prophecy of his birthright, the one that drives him so far from Arwen," he looked back to Legolas. "Don't drive him away, Legolas, as he drove her. Though I would wish for Sam to travel with Bill back to Rivendell, I do not believe I could walk this path without him. And though you care for Strider's safety - I may venture to say that you cannot manage the journey without him, nor he without you."

Insightful words from such a small creature. He had taken all of this - such true thoughts - from simply watching and understanding what the bond of friendship was. But with him, there was so much more here. Frodo had not made other vows to dear friends. He had not promised to the greatest of powers to pledge his friend's safety above his own. And though he doubted Arwen knew that was the thought in his mind when he made his final vow to him, he would keep it. Till the end. Legolas put a hand on Frodo.

"Frodo - there is more to my story than what I may speak of before the journey's end, but I will head your words."

Whispers interrupted his thoughts. Legolas looked quickly to the water and he leaned forward, straining to hear what the words said, for though they echoed in his mind, he did not understand them. 

Frodo sensed his reaction and stood. "You feel it too," he whispered. "I do not like the water."

"Neither do I, Master Frodo." He glanced at the Hobbit. "There is danger here. Watch the water carefully, but do not disturb it." with that he stood and walked briskly away, before the Hobbit could expose anymore of him to the cold around them. 

He ignored the glance of the Wizard as he reached out to the tree and closed his eyes and he felt for the spark - the hope he needed. He had not removed it from the first tree, but had shared it, enriched it, so that small green shoots of new life would soon show from its twisted and seemingly dead branches. With a sigh, he turned and leaned his back into the tree...and watched the water. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After the initial shock of the Company's position wore away, Arwen returned to her gazing, her confidence in her abilities boosted. She had not seen with foresight, but she believed she had seen what was now. She did not believe her connection with Estel, but with Legolas that allowed this. The Valar were watching, though ever silent in these times. 

Night had come and Arwen suspected her father would come looking for her soon. She did not know what his reaction to her ministrations would be, but she could not have him stop her. With a determined expression on her face, Arwen took the bowl carefully into her arms and set about finding a place in the forest within Imladris where the moon shown through the clouds. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_...the Ring Bearer...take the Ring...bring me the Ring....Kill the others_

Legolas shook his head. The whispers had taken form in his mind, no longer the frustrating buzzing noise. Their sound took shape, moved from the ethereal to the solid. He straightened from his perch against the tree and narrowed his eyes as he looked out over the water. Danger...there was danger...it was coming.

Laughter broke his thoughts and he found himself turning to peer quizzically at Gandalf. The Istari shook his head as he spoke. "Gandalf, you old fool... _mellon!_"

The writing on the mountainside inflamed as a seam that had not been apparent before split the intricate and ornate artistry into two doors. With grinding and a bit of shaking the doors opened inward, revealing an interior as dark and gloomy as Legolas remembered. Gimli stepped forward and came to stand beside Legolas as the Elf moved away from the tree. "So all you had to do was say 'friend', and enter?" 

Gimli nodded. "Those were happier times."

"Everyone," Gandalf motioned with his staff. "Come."

Legolas hung back for an instant, a glance at the lake. Perhaps if they entered the mine, whatever was in the water would stay within its murky depths.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Remembering a small clearing she and her brothers had found in their younger years, Arwen traveled quickly through the forest to the very spot. The trees parted overhead and to her delight, she found the moon shown here through a small break in the clouds. There was only this opening and she believed the Valar were with her once again, allowing her light to see into the water. 

Carefully, she set the bowl on the ground and settled down before it, arranging her thick, and heavy gown about her. With a deep breath, she blew upon the water and opened her eyes to peer deeply into it. 

And there she saw the walls again. Only now she saw that the water was a lake, as dark and murky as any pool within the walls of Mordor could be. She saw the company about her, with the Dwarf being the closest. Gandalf moved into an opening in the mountain first. 

Her view abruptly changed and she was now looking back at the water. She saw the rippling, sensed the approach of something. Danger was as thick as the mist over the water. When Estel came into her vision, she realized she saw as Legolas saw. 

He was dirtied, and his eyes appeared tired. And though circles of fatigue hung beneath those beautiful gray eyes, he was well. Though his expression was one of concern as he approached her - or rather, Legolas. 

"Mellon nîn? You are pale, and your glow is enhanced."

"I," Legolas voice surrounded her, and again it was as it had been before, when his fear had awakened her in the night. She was with him. Nay, she was _within_ him. "I sense an echo, yet I do not know if it is from within me, or there." 

The two of them looked back at the water, and Strider started toward the Lake. Arwen reacted in her own way, and she knew Legolas' hand had reached for him, catching him on the arm. He looked back at her/Legolas, and his eyes narrowed. Recognition flooded his expression and Arwen moved away from the mirror, but did not break her contact with the Elven Prince. 

"Legolas?" Strider leaned toward him. "There is a familiar light in your eyes."

"Aragorn, Legolas," Pippin motioned to them as the Hobbits waited on the taller races. Boromir waited as well, his shield up, his hand on his hilt. 

Gandalf motioned from the gates. "Aragorn! Let us hurry."

Arwen/Legolas looked back to Strider and nodded. "It is time we stepped inside of Moria." She felt the Prince's silent wail surround her and knew then where his fear had come from. He did not wish to go inside of the great mountain - no Elf would. How can Estel look upon his friend and not see his troubles? 

"Legolas..."

But the Prince reached out and touched his friend's shoulder. In a small way, Arwen felt that she touched her love as well, and from that contact was flooded with emotion so overwhelming as to be caught in the tears that came to her eyes._ He is aching - this I can feel. But I do not know what his thoughts are that bring such pain to his eye. He feels he had lost something precious. _"We must go."

Estel nodded, turned away and Arwen saw again the lake through the Prince's eyes. Menacing voices as black as the billowing smoke of Mount Doom filled her thoughts as she gazed into that water. She put her hands to her ears as the cacophony threatened to push her from Legolas' thoughts. _Can he not hear the evil? Can he not sense the beast that rests beneath the surface._

Legolas turned away from the lake and walked slowly behind the dwarf into the dark entrance of Moria. 

_It is coming...Legolas…do not turn away from the water!_

TBC


	7. The Mines of Moria: Part One

**Disclaimer: **All rights to the plot and characters of the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy belong exclusively to the estate of J.R.R.Tolkien. No commerce is being exchanged in this endeavor, nor is a profit being made. This story is written strictly for entertainment purposes.

I apologize for the very long time between posts. I'm afraid I became involved in a few other projects including that of my daughter's birthday. And of course, once I had The Two Towers in my posession, I just couldn't stop watching it. I hope this chapter meets expectations.

The Mines of Moria

_The Journey Begins_

Stale air as thick as fog and tainted with the rotting stench of decay greated the Company as Gandalf proceeded them through the Doors of Durin. Legolas felt an icy grip upon his heart as his feet refused to go forward. From somewhere on the inner planes of his subconscious he heard a voice warning him to beware - _do not turn your back upon the water!_  


Boromir walked past, his own gaze returning furtively to the lake behind them. The Elf gave the still water a last glance as his senses screamed at him to draw bow and arrow. Danger lay not before them in the mines, but behind them.   


He followed the boisterous Dwarf inside. Gimli's voice reverbrated against the dark interrior. It was hard to see within the mountain's walls, for it seemed as murky as the lake. There was little light for his Elven eyes to take sustenance from.  


"Soon master elf, you will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the Dwarves. Roaring fires, malt beer, ripe meat off the bone..."  


The Elf's stomach twisted as he remembered another time within these mines, as he and Aragorn had aided in the Dwarves' fight against Orcs, and Legolas had nearly died of Morgul poison. The thought of food seemed rather incongruous with their present situation. Only a Dwarf could think of filling his belly during times like these.  


Just ahead of them the Istari blew air upon the top of his staff, and the crystal situated there gave a soft glow, faint illumination to the scene before them.  


"This my friend is the home of my cousin Balin." The Dwarf continued in his speech, oblivious to what the light of Gandalf's staff revealed. "And they call it a mine...a _mine_!"  


Legolas stopped in his tracks as he looked about, the taint of death settling about his shoulders like an icy cloak. He shivered as his eyes took in the sight.  


"This is no mine...this is a _tomb_," the tone of Boromir's voice told the horror that held each of them as the crystal from Gandalf's staff illuminated the carnage that littered the dirtied and muddied floor.  


"No!" The Dwarf's voice struck out from the depths of his soul and pierced the utter silence of Moria with its lament.  


Legolas felt for the grieved Dwarf, for he knew the depths of anger and despair he would know should he return to the home of his kin to find them brutally slaughtered as such? Anger - rage - hatred. These are the emotions that came to the surface of his thoughts as he looked about. And he welcomed them, for within anger he could draw courage. He strode to the nearest corpse and pulled an arrow from its gullet. He recognized the blackened feathers and the crude fletchings that now stank of morgul as he held it up to his keen eyes. "Goblins!"  


The Elf threw the arrow to the ground. Within seconds he had his bow in hand, an arrow knotched and ready. _Where there were Goblins, there were orcs. And from the few Orc or Goblin corpses I see here, the fouler beasts of Mordor fared much better.  
_

Boromir's voice was low but audible as he took Aragorn's arm. "We make for the gap of rohan. We should never have come here." He turned to face the Doors.   


Legolas glanced back to see the hobbits, all four, standing in gaping horror at the carnage.  


"Get out of here...get out!" Boromir called.  


The hobbits began a halted retreat backwards. Legolas turned back to face the great stairway. Again he was taken by the imminent warnings of danger. The trees outside called to him - their voices faint on the wind.   


_ Danger! Danger!_  


A Hobbit's small cry took Legolas' breath away as the Elf turned. First Frodo was there, and then he wasn't. The small hobbit had fallen forward, and then had been dragged away  


to the lake!  


"Frodo!" Sam cried out in an anguished tone.  


_Oh Ai!_ The Elf watched Aragorn and Boromir scramble out of the damp mine, hurdling over the corpses of dwarves on their way to the opening.  


"Legolas!" Gandalf cried. "Follow them!"  


With a nod the Mirkwood Prince rushed out behind the two warriors.  


He stopped short at the door at what he saw. It would be the lesser one of two moments during their journey into Moria when the Elf Prince would be striken with a fear so great it gripped his muscles with a paralyzing, icy hand.  


Tentacles the size of mid-grown trees wrangled and writhed from the lake's depth, its still, murky surface no longer smooth, but chopped and hacked with the thrashing of her monster. He had never laid witness to such a monstrocity – and all the while a voice had warned him of the foulness beneath the depths!  


_ Ai! I should have listened! 'Twas plane the Valar are watching, and their warning I ignored!_  


The beast waved eight of these tree-sized limbs in the air. Within its grasp was Frodo. The Hobbit was tossed about by his ankle as he called out for Aragorn over and over again.   


Strider hacked to his left as Boromir stumbled out into the lake to give of his own sword. Legolas took aim and shot a well placed arror into one of the monster's tentacles. It gave forth a bellow that shook the ground and forced the trees to wail inside the Elf's mind. He quickly pulled another arrow from his back as Boromir yelled and gave a severing blow to a limb.  


The Ranger moved in the slogging water and pulled back his own sword to sever the tentacle holding the Hobbit. Boromir had seen the severing strike and resheathed his weapon. He held his arms out to catch the tumbling Frodo.  


Legolas took airm, his face set in a fierce grimace.   


Gandalf yelled from behind him. "Into the mines!"  


Boromir clutched Frodo in his grasp as Strider came up behind him. "Legolas! Into its eye!"  


The eye. The Elf narrowed his gaze and focused his keen sight on the monster's eye. He saw the great maw of teeth, heard the pitiful cries of its wounded pride. His senses peirced beyond the creature's pain, past the filthy mind of menace he encountered, and at last found the weakness of the beast's massive girth.  


It was indeed the eye. Boromir had chosen correctly.  


He allowed the power of the wind to guide his arm, sunk deep within the hum of the trees and focused the arrow's tip upon its game.   


He released the deadly shaft with no other movement save the whip of a lock of flaxen hair.  


The arrow found home! It pierced the creature's eye and it let forth a bellow to rival all gutteral speeches uttered before it. Boromir reached the water's edge and released Frodo at Legolas' feet. Strider gained ground upon the shore as well and pushed the Hobbits inside as Sam turned and ran into the darkness.  


The Elf bent down, his bow still clutched within his left hand, and pulled Frodo up upon his feet. He sensed the creatures' remaining tentacles as they searched behind them, seeking out revenge for its pain.   


"Rise, little Hobbit," Legolas spoke to Frodo softly, "Rise and run!"  


Frodo nodded and scrambled upon shaky feet. Legolas nearly pushed him forward as he felt the tentacles behind him, smelled their putrid tainted slime.   


He cast a glance back as the others ran before him. The creature had pulled itself from the lake and its tentacles groped along the shores. It smashed the trees and their dying song twisted inside of Legolas. He nearly stumbled as their pain echoed in his mind, until Strider was there, his arm beneath his friend's. The Elf gave the human a smile and the two ran behind the Company as the doors of Durin came crashing down.  


The force pushed Strider forward, and Legolas came to his aid, bracing his shoulder as the last of the light of the world outside winked out, as if snuffing a candle.  


The darkness enveloped Legolas. It pushed at him, pressed against him, forced the air from his chest. There was no light for his eyes to see by – no hope to gleem a promise of freedom upon.   


He listened to the settling debris as one by one the stone and rock formed the barrier separating him from the sun. From the air.   


From the forest.   


Something moved beside him. It was Strider who put his hands on the Elf's shoulder, who guided him to stand in the consuming darkness.   


"I am with you, Mellon-nîn," he whispered in the gray tongue.  


Estel was with him. His friend and brother. With him, the darkness held a small bit of hope, and light. Legolas felt ashamed that he had turned away from his friend who now came to him in the dark even as the Hobbits began to mutter amongst themselves. _You who wish to protect – you cannot even control your fear. Brave Elven warrior indeed._  


The Istari's crystal once more came to life and cast an eery illumination upon the Company. Legolas saw Strider's face so close to his own, and in those gray eyes, he found a place to hold onto the light. He gave his brother a stiff smile and Strider returned it with a warm wink.  


_ Your promise does not include turning from your brother, little Greenleaf.  
_

Legolas started at the voice, spoken so softly within his mind. It was then he realized that _she_ was with him again, as she had been that night in the trees, beside him and had been throughout the journey. The Valar brought the Undómiel close to his heart, so dangerous a place for the truest love of his life to be.  


"Are you all right?" Estel spoke softly again in the grey tongue.   


Legolas smiled and put a bracing hand on his friend's wrist. "I am for now."  


The two friends moved to join the Hobbits, the Dwarf and the Gondorian as the Istari moved past each of them.   


"We now have but one choice," Mithrandir's deep, throaty voice echoed within the dark chamber. His skin looked ashen within the crytal's glow. "We must face the long dark of Moria." He moved past each of them, and Legolas straightened, not wanting to show his fear before the Istari. "There are older and fouler things in the deep places of the world."  


Mithrandir lead the way down a corridor only he could see.   


"Quietly now - it is a four day journey to the other side."  


Legolas took in a deep breath as he fell in step behind the Istari. He caught the last of the fresh air that had lingered within as the Doors came down, and held it deep inside his lungs. With a glance back to see that Aragorn had taken up a position behind the Hobbits, the Elf Prince moved forward.   


_ I only pray to the Valar that I can be as great a protector of my brother and the Hobbits here, as I can be in the woods. I fear I may lose my way in this cursed darkness, and even the love of my brother will not find me.  
_

* * *

Arwen settled back against the tree and allowed the wood's soothing life to disapate her own pent-up passion. For being locked to the Prince's soul as it were, had brought her in close to his emotions. _Never have I experienced such as this. My grandmother taught me how to see into the water – but can even she dwell within the heart of another such as I have done?_ The short battle with the water's watcher had not come unexpectedly – but it had come swiftly. She had sensed something there, lurking beneath that murky calm, just as Legolas had sensed it.  


It was only afterward, when the shaking thrill of battle had lessoned his hold upon his fears that she had broken through Legolas' barrier to touch upon what frightened him. So dear a thing is the wild Sindarin heart. So brave and fierce, and yet so dependant upon the wood and her kin. And he would not see it so. _No, my dear Prince would never admitt to his needs, not when he believed they would lesson himself as a warrior. I fear my beloved will need to protect the Prince as much as the Prince is there to protect the future King._  


_For even I had sensed my beloved's touch upon Legolas' arm, and I then knew the bond both Elf and Man share. I fear it is something I shall never know myself._  


"Arwen?"  


The sun had sunk low behind the mountains of Imladris. The air contained a bit of cold to it as it brushed the leaves back and forth to whisper around her. She quickly emptied the silver bowl and moved it beneath a pile of leaves before her brother emerged from the trees to her right.   


"Yes Elrohir?"  


The dark haired Elf gave his sister a measured stare, his right eyebrow arched ever so delicately upon his ageless face. A smile pulled at the edges of his full lips. "I came to see what has occupied your time since your brother and I have returned. But I see from the guilt so faultily displayed upon your face that you have other things that occupy your time."  


She gave the youngest twin a sardonic smile, yet sweetened its edge with a light laugh. "There is naught I can do that can be hidden from your eye, is there?"  


"Nay," Elrohir moved closer to his sister and bent low to the grass beside her. He wore a simple shirt of shimmering green and a jerkin of aged leather. His breeches were dark and soft, and on his feet rested little more than house-slippers, crafted of fine silk. He kept his long, dark locks pulled back at the sides into braids that kept it from his eyes. "There is nothing, dear sister. But know that what I suspect, not always does Elladan. Though we be of the same blessed breath of Valar, we are quite different."  


She gave him a slow smile, but could do nothing of the sigh that escaped her lips. "Then you know I worry."  


"I know many things, Arwen." He reached across her and pulled out the silver bowl. "What I wish to know now is how our brother fares?" He held the bowl to him and gazed into its silver reflection. "For I do not believe you have spent these days gazing into the waters to look across the lake to the Grey Havens, now have you?"  


Trepidation sped her heart, but Arwen knew in the center of her soul that Elrohir could be trusted to hold the dearest of secrets. For it was he that knew of her love of Estel long before their Father suspected. She reached out and touched her brother's strong and smooth cheek. "They go into Moria."  


Elrohir's face darkened and a harsh line formed between his delicate brow and warred with his smooth beauty. "This is not the way our brother sought – they have been led there."  


"Aye," Arwen gave him her fears and shifted her position upon the ground. A bird called out in the approaching night and she licked her lips in anticipation of sharing all that she had seen.   


And there under that twilight she told him, of Saroman's betrayals, of the crowbain, of the doors and of Legolas' sensing of the watcher. The Elven Warrior was most interested in the link that his sister seemed to have formed with the Elven Prince.   


"It came to me, one night. Woke me from my sleep." She stood and moved to the hill's edge, where the whole of Imladris spread out before her. The moon glittered upon the lake that ran through the city's center, and the waterfalls amidst the mountain ranges sparkled like fireflies. "I heard him callthe Prince. He was afraid and I felt that fear, as if it were my own. I did not know its reason. But I found I could comfort him. I found that I could listen to his thoughts at times," she turned face her brother, her face shrouded in shadow. "And now, I find that I can see through his eyes."  


"Such a gift," Elrohir was on his feet and beside his sister. He put his hands on her shoulders. "How is such a thing possible? Is this some trick of the mind, some magic the Lady Galadriel has taught you?"  


"No," she shook her head. "Upon the night of the Departure, I bade the Prince promise me to take care of Estel. To watch over him, in my stead. And such a promise was heard by the Valar, Elrohir. And now he and I are bound to one another."  


"Aye," the dark haired Elf nodded. "It is a pity you cannot hold this gift with Estel."  


Arwen felt the tears well in her eyes again, and cursed their revelations of the despair she felt inside. "Every night I pray for that close bond, and every night I hear Legolas' fears."  


"What fears?" The tall dark Elf leaned down to his sister. "Please, tell me of his fears. For the Prince of Mirkwood is our brother as well as Estel's. He had made a promise to me and Elladan as well. What could our Woodland kin fear?"  


A breeze blew through the trees. Cicadas called their symphony in the descending night as the Undómiel peered into the grey eyes of her dear brother. "He fears the dark, Elrohir. He fears the enclosed spaces of Moria, as all Woodland kin would. Inside those dark caves, he believes he will be useless, no longer the eyes and ears of the Company of Nine. This fear taunts him, and because he has made his vow to me, he believes he must bear this awful truth of his flaw silently upon himself."  


"He should ask aid of Estel." Elrohir pursed his own full lips. "Surely our brother will sense the fear in Legolas, and he will aid him in any way he can. You know your beloved's heart, dear Undómiel. And I know yours."  


A twig snapped in the darkening wood. Arwen moved to the side and smiled at the shadow there in the trees. "Come Elladan – it seems where ever your brother goes, you must follow."  


Elrohir turned and gave his twin a scathing look. "I suppose you have overheard?"  


"'Tis not something I had not already feared," the taller of the twins appeared from the shadow. He was dressed much as his brother, but in opposing colors. His own dark hair was pulled back in a single, thick braid. "Long ago, when Fingolfin returned to us, I learned of the Prince's self-doubt in the darkness of caves. But I had not known of his pledge to the Valar." He stopped beside his sister. "Is there naught we can do to aid in the overwatch of our brother?"  


The Undómiel gave them both a smile, and thanked the great ones for the gift of such a loving family. _No other Elven Maiden is so lucky to have such stolid and loyal brothers._ "We can only reasure him. I can be there with him. But I must have time and place, and safety. I am not sure Ada would be as kind in heart with judgement upon that which I do."  


"With this you are right," Elladan nodded. "Though I am loathe to extol such exercises without his knowledge under the protection of his forests. I can bear witness to its necessity if we are thus caught." He glanced at Elrohir, then turned a concerned face to Arwen. "Where are they now?"  


"Gone into the mines. There is no choice as the Doors of Durin lay in ruin." She gave a shuddering sigh at the memory of the beast, and of Legolas' powerful arrows. She had smelled the fetid water as it was cast about with the fiend's thrashing. She had heard the shouts of the others as their courage became a shield against their fears. _I believe this was only he beginning of the dangers the Nine Walkers will face.  
_

Elladan held Arwen close as Elrohir stepped to the side. "Then sister, we will give you such time. You must follow them, and watch over them. And together we will give our kin promise to continue. In the darkness there is evil, and through your bond, you will give him light, and it is with this light he will see Estel safely through."  


"Your words are a comfort to me," Arwen relaxed into her brother's powerful embrace. Elves were the stuff of strength and from him, she gathered all that she could. "I hear in my head a single phrase often spoken of in song – a simple rote give to me by our grandmother. Something that I believe I may give him so that he may find the courage he will need."  


"Then what is this wonderous string of phrase?" Elrohir asked.  


Arwen pulled out of her brother's embrace and stepped to the side. She did not know or understand how the moonlight held her form transfixed in the twin's eyes as they held the Undómiel of their people. "_Commn ul ele ell_ – my heart sings to thee. And it is in this that I will give him a song to carry with him through the mines as he watches over my beloved."  


Elladan nodded, and though is countenence was stern, his lips pulled upward in a sad smile. "Pride is but a sin of our brother, and that too of the Prince. Hope we must that the two discover again their bond of friendship within the mines."  


"Aye," Arwen nodded. "But I believe such a bond will be strengthened by another," she paused and looked to her right at the river below. "An un-heard of friendship that will forge itself in the death and despair that is Moria."  


"Tell, then." Elrohir said.   


But the Undómiel shook her head. There will be time to tell, to watch and see, if the prophetic dreams passed on to her by her grandmother will indeed come to pass.  


_I am there, Legolas of Mirkwood, and through you, I will watch my beloved through the darkness._  


* * *

  
The mines were more oppressive now than they had been years ago when he and Legolas ventured inside of them. _Ah, but in those days, the halls had been alive with the sounds of many Dwarves, intent on mining and feasting. Now there is only the ghost of death and hopelessness that hangs over our shoulders._  


The Ranger had chosen the end of the line that followed the Istari. Boromir had gathered a torch and caught its blaze with the spark of two rocks. Single was the lights of the crystal staff and that of the flame, but ahead of him Strider saw the etheral light of the Elf. Bright it was here, and without the aid of the moon. But how long would that light last here in the dark?  


_I am not blind now to my friend's distress._ He cursed himself inwardly for not uderstanding the Elf's stolid bearing before. Such a weakness was not something Legolas would wish known. Strider knew of it because he had ventured into these mines before, and it was during one of those times that he himself had nearly died at the hands of Orcs.  


It had been Legolas' perserverence with the Dwarven Lords that saved him, and then to have discovered his Elven brother had been pierced by a poisoned blade. It was not the first time Lord Elrond's healing gift had saved the Prince.   


_And I do not wish a repeat of such a thing. But we are both much wiser and older now. Perhaps myself more than the Prince. But we know now the dangers of the mines, and understand its need for death._  


Boromir stumbled only a bit and Strider had his hand out for the Gondorian. With a nod, the warrior continued on and Strider again took up the rear. He heard Gandalf's voice ahead of them, speaking softly to those that would listen, of the things the Dwarves here mined. Mithril – beautiful and most valueable. And again he looked to the front to see Legolas there, following close behind the Istari.   


Once or twice the Elf was asked a question in private and Strider watched as Gandalf would nod and continue on. _Perhaps my friend will cheer himself now that he has purpose again? No, that is not truth in itself. I must speak with him, for without words, I cannot be certain what it is that ails him, and surely it is an ailment that darkens his brow and pales his skin so, even before we stepped inside.  
_

The Nine traveled far the first night, and Gandalf chose a flatish space to rest and recover and perhaps have a quick meal. The Istari brought out the Miruvor to drink, and each took a sip. Strider appreciated the elixir's value and took in his own portion with a prayer to the Valar. He watched Legolas drink, and was taken by the Elf's quickness.  


Had he even supped?  


"Can you help us with our packs, Strider?" Sam came to him in the dim light of torch and crystal. "I still have rations enough that if I cook them a bit at a time, we might make it through this hellish place with full bellies."  


Strider could not help but smile at the stout Hobbit's retorts. He gave the tiny Hobbit a nod and set about helping Sam, Frodo and Merry unpack what small bits they carried. Boromir aided as well, and soon there was a small fire well hidden from the rest of the caverns. The smells of frying sausage and tomatoes enticed the Ranger and he helped himself to a small portion.   
It was Pippin whose presence was missed when the food was given out. Frodo noticed it at first and he looked about with a whisper to Strider. "I've not seen him since we stopped."  


Then in the shadows the younger of the Hobbits appeared. His smudged face held a look of great concern for one so small.  


Strider went to him and placed a soft hand on his shoulder. "Pippin? Are you not hungry? I would almost believe you have missed second breakfast and have not complained as of yet."  


But the Hobbit only shook his head. He peered up at the man, and Strider knelt dwon beside him. "What is it, Pippin?"  


"I worry for the Prince," the Hobbit's voice was soft, almost as if he did not wish to alarm anyone else, but shared a confidence with the Ranger alone. "He is sitting alone near the first fork. He seems – sad. And his light," Pippin shook his head. "'Tis not as bright as it has been. Not like it was on the way here. Do Elves' lights fortell their beings inside?"  


Strider returned the Hobbit's worried look with one of his own. "Pipping, Legolas is a woodland creature, a Sindarin Elf. They are a kind sensitive, and open to the land. Here, in these caves, he is cut off from such friendships and I fear he is suffering from that severing. I have been in these dwellings before with him. Our last encounter was not a happy one."  


"Really?" Pippin looked genuinely interested. "Is it a story to tell to pass the time?"  


"No, perhaps not now." He ruffled the Hobbit's straggly hair. "I think it best if you eat though. And speak not of what you see with the Elf. I will talk to him."  


"Thank you Strider," and Pippin went to join his comrades.   


The Ranger went then in search of his Elven brother. He passed Gimli and the Istari in deep conversation, perhaps speaking about grander days within the halls of Khazad-dûm. Gandalf nodded to him as he passed, then paused and tilted his head in a northward direction, as if to give aid in his search for the Elf.   


_Ah, indeed Gandalf has noticed the Prince's meloncholy as well._  


He found the Elf near a ledge. He sat with his back against a stone wall, his bow clutched between white knuckles, his eyes closed.   


_Closed._  


Panic set in with Strider. Elves did not close their eyes unless heavily fatigued or wounded. Or dead.  


He was beside his brother within seconds, his hand on Legolas' shoulder. "Mellon-nîn?" his voice was harsh but low.  


The Prince's demeanor changed and he started away at the Ranger's touch.   


_ I have startled him! How can this be? I have never startled Legolas, not in the years I have known him._  


"Estel?" Legolas' voice was thick, sluggish. He blinked several times as he focused on the Ranger.   


"Are you ill?" He peered into the Elf's bright blue eyes.   


But Legolas pushed him away with tightly reigned strength. "I am fine. Why do you find it necessary to hawk to me like a mother to her chiks?"  


"Because you act like a wounded lamb." The words left Strider's mouth before he could stop them. Truth spoken in angered responses were not always the best to say or to hear. But it was done.  


The Prince of Mirkwood glared at the man, but he did not retort. Instead he looked away and held tighter to his bow. "I am fine."  


"Such lies are becoming tiresome, my friend." He reached out and put a hand on Legolas' wrist. The Elf tried to pull away, but the Ranger held him tight. "You will speak to me. Now. Before we take another step into this dark place. I know not what it is that haunts your soul, nor have you given me two words to help you."  


"I'm –"  


"Do not speak to me in lies again, Legolas Greenleaf." Strider's patience was tested now as it had never been with his dearest and oldest friend. He looked hard into the Elf's eyes and saw despair and grief. "Have you lost something? Has something befallen you? An illness? Some ailment I can help in easing?"  


Elves were of a strong mettle, and not easily given to the frailties granted to men. But the Ranger had seen his friend wounded enough times and sickened to know that Legolas was disheartened by something deeper than his old fears of enclosed places.   


Legoals tried to pull his hand free again, but was stopped by Strider. "Pleasedo not ask this of me."   


The Elf's voice was almost pleading. Strider released the delicate wrist and sat back. Indeed, Pippin had been right in that the elven light was diminished. Though they had only walked into the mines for half a day's journey, and had many more miles to trudge, the light of the ethereal should not have waned so quickly.  


"Legolas," he shook his head. "I am your brother – and your friend. Can you not speak to me? Can you not help me to help you?" He pursed his lips and rubbed at the stubble of his chin. "Is the old fear of this place?"  


At first he believed the Elf might lie, which was an act that went against all that the Valar had created the First Born. But with a breath's spanse, the Prince gave a small shake of his head. "I – I do feel the walls surrounding me. I feel their pressure. I feel totally without purpose here in this darkness. I have a weakness, that you know of in me. I feel I am" but he did not finish and looked away.  


"Legolasplease," the Ranger leaned forward to his friend.   


Gandalf' voice broke the small space of silence. Strider turned in the direction of he voice and saw beside the closest jut of the cave's wall where Pippin had been listening in and watching. The small Hobbit's retreat did not go unnoticed and Strider promised himself a word with the small creature as soon as possible.  


But when he turned again, Legolas was gone.   


* * *

They traveled for many more hours, climbing the steepest of stairs where Legolas found himself aiding in keeping Pippin and Merry on their feet. His own footing was sure and unhindered, yet the Hobbit's balance was not meant for vertical steps. The ghastly remains of battle scattered about did nothing to help them as swords, arrows and helms bearing the staring skulls of the dead glared back at them all.  


The Elven Prince moved with the surety of his race – unafraid of such things – knowing there were little more than remains of the dead, their spirits having flown long ago. He oddly wondered where the souls of the Orcs, those turned Elves of long ago, flew to when their prisons of twisted bodies here were severed.  


Pippin took his hand abruptly, pulling Legolas from his mind's meandering. _Curse myself. That is the third time I have lost my mind in thought of curious questions. I must stay alert and help. I have a duty being here – and I must prove to my father I as not ill in my decision to be a part of something greater._  


_And in the end, that was it, wasn't it? You worry about what your father believes.  
_

_ No.  
_

_ I worry about what Arwen will say if I allow Aragorn to die. Or if I fail in protecting them all. _  


On and on his thoughts bantered about in his mind until the chatter would drive him insane. Was this how an Elf's mind would keep itself from the worry of the outside world? And what of Strider?   


It pained the Elf to remember his friend's look of concern. Estel did not, and could not understand what is was that the Prince faced. So much rested on his shoulders, and he though he wanted more than anything to share that burden, he could not.  


_ It is for Strider I do this. For Arwen. For the Company. And for my Father, whether he believes it or not._  


And for this he would strain their friendship even further, until one day perhaps they could discuss this journey and look back upon it over wine. Dreams. All of it dreams. _And I am a fool._  


It was then at the top of one of the stairs that their party stopped. Gandalf had come up short, his staff held high. Before him there lay a fork of three directions, each as dimly lit as the other. The Istari looked from one to the other.   


Legolas steadied Pippin beside him, then lept nimbly from rock to ledge to peer into the forks. What was it Mithrandir saw?  


Or perhaps, did _not_ see?  


Finally the gray old Wizard shook his head and muttered, "I have no memory of this place."

  
TBC  
  
  



	8. The Mines of Moria: Part Two

"Paused in shadow," her voice spoke of progress, in low timbers as it held the attentions of siblings of great bearing. Several more leaves of golden hues fluttered in through the open window and spiraled down around her dark brow. They settled one by one with lazy distress upon the mirror's water. "Darkness and indecision." She closed her eyes, pressing back tears of frustration. "I cannot see any further."

The elder Elven brother touched his sister's shoulder, infusing her with strength imbued of the Valar. "Arwen, can the Prince not hear you?"

"Nay," she swallowed and turned her luminous sapphire gaze upon Elladan, whose own gray eyes reflected her very heart's worth. "Nor can I hear him. I sense only fear and distress. Mithrandir does not know the way through, and thus they have stymied their ascent upon a three fold doorway."

Elrohir sighed from his position on his sister's bed. The three had retreated to Arwen's rooms after attending a light and silent supper with their father, Elrond. It seemed to his daughter that the great Lord's own thoughts centered around personal dismay though she suspected in her heart he worried for his adopted son.

As did they all.

"This is unbearable," the youngest of the twins' voice was wrecked with worry. He twisted and lay flat upon his back, his arms splayed out at his sides. "We should have gone with them."

"Pointless chatter," Elladan said in a much silence whisper. "Trouble not your heart. Instead think of Estel, and of the Hobbits. Pray to the Valar that Mithrandir remembers the path. To tarry in such a place" he shivered and looked back to the mirror. "Arwen, can you not speak to him as you told us?"

She shook her head. "Only when he is listening. There is a dread, a terrible melancholy upon his heart, and I do not know its just cause." Indeed, she had sensed the perilous cloak as it moved over her friend's soul. _There is something amiss, something the Prince keeps to himself. If he will not listen, I can not warn him._

"Unbearable," Elrohir muttered once again from his position.

"Perhaps you should keep yourself busy, dear brother," Elladan said in a quiet voice. "Father's library is extensive and I am sure there such creatures beneath Moria that even you and I have never seen in all our days upon Arda."

Arwen looked to the eldest twin. "What horrors do you suspect, Elladan?"

He turned a serious gaze upon his sister. "Legends as old as the Silmarils. Tales told by Glorfindel and our father by the light of an evening fire, when the wine ran full and memories long locked away came forward in heroic retellings."

Elrohir sat abrupt, upright with eyes wide. "Ai, I remember those tales, and thought of them as such. The remakings of more mundane happenings with silver tresses, dressed up to seem more adventurous."

"Nay, brother," Elladan shook his head with gravity. "Though Dwathderrow is—was—a mine to the Dwarven peoples, it was before then merely a covering to the lands where the followers of Melkor slept, within the lands of Morgoth."

A delicate hand came to Arwen's lips as her eyes widened and brimmed with tears. "No Elladan, you can't mean the slaves of the Dark Lord dwell there."

"Really you think the Dwarven Kingdom of Moria was destroyed by Goblin and Orc might alone? Nay, dear sister. There was foul work abroad, and I fear in my soul that Mithrandir knew the fate of Balin and his kin before ever entering that dark place." Elladan bowed his head gracefully. "I believe it is why he did not wish to go into the mines, and I believe it is why," he looked to Arwen below his furrowed brow, "Sauroman has herded them into the bowels of the earth, to let a beast of shadow and flame destroy that which he cannot."

Tears of anguish filled Arwen's eyes as she cast her gaze back to the mirror. _Look to me, my prince. Please hear me in the dark and take from me my strength._ She sniffed as Elrohir stood beside her, his hand resting briefly upon her shoulder before the younger twin departed from her room. _Beware the shadows._

_-----------  
_

The tombed silence of Moria was broken occasionally by the slight, harried comments of Hobbits ill fed. A cadence had come of it, nearing like a song of impatience and despair. For Pippin would complain in one voice of hunger and starvation, as Merry would deliver a resounding shush in another voice. Once in a while the rhythm was broken by the grunt of a dwarf, who sat nearby upon the rock smoking a pipe as he watched the Elf, watching the shadows

Estel sat upon the edge of the three-door precipice, a pipe clutched in his own hand, the buzz of the weed giving little solace to his growing fears of trepidation. He did not like it when the Istari paused, nor did he feel confidence flourish with the wizard's mutterings to himself. Gandalf smoked his own pipe as he sat perched upon a jutting rock, facing the three doors.

_It sounds as if he's scolding himself for his aging memory._ Estel suffered himself a small smile. _Perhaps he is. _

He watched mutely and puffed upon his own Elven weed as Frodo approached the wizened Istari and the two spoke in low voices. Estel heard the echo of the name of Golem, and even he could not shut out an inward shiver of distaste.

Golem.

The slippery creature was near. Estel paused with this thought. Yes, he was near enough that Legolas should have said something or made mention of the creature's Oliphant step. _Yet come to speak of it—where is my dearest of friends?_

Estel turned around, twisted from his left to his right. Legolas had stood only a rock's throw moments earlier, his soft Elven glow a beacon within the Dwarven mines.

With a glance at each of the company—of Borimir entranced in his telling of a Gondor tale to Merry and Pippin—and then to—_Ai…where is Gimli?_ Estel tapped the pipe on a local stone, easy the heated weed did not ignite his dry and brittle clothing, and then moved cautiously a few steps away from the flat ledge where the Company of Nine paused in their journey.

A rock bounced nearby as Gimli stepped hastily around a mound of sharp and high rock. His axe was balanced over his shoulder, and his step was even and sure—for this is the realm of the Dwarfs.

"Aragorn," the Dwarf said in a soft if not gruff voice. "There you are. You must speak sense into the insensible."

Estel pursed his lips and stopped a smile. The statement seemed meant for humor, yet the Dwarf's expression did not. "Why you say this, Master Gimli?"

"Because that pointy-eared friend of a Ranger sits away from us behind that rock. He will not look at me, and he will not open his eyes."

The ranger took a jolt from such a proclamation. "His eyes are closed?" This did not bode well—for the Elvish race did not close their eyes save when they were gravely ill.

Or dead.

"Aragorn," the dwarf's expression moved quickly from aggravation to worry. "Ai…this is bad?"

"Did he speak?"

"Oh, speak he did. His words were simple." The aggravated expression returned. "He said, 'leave'."

Taking some comfort in Legolas' speech and a little humor from the dwarf's ire, Estel bade Gimli to return to the Company near the three doors and he would look after the elf.

And indeed, just around the high rocky wall sat Legolas. His bow lay at his side, an arrow cast off in a less than armed position of rest upon the stony floor. The Elf's light seemed dimmed, somehow, and yet it illuminated the darkness enough for Estel to see him.

"Old friend," he said gently as he knelt down beside Legolas.

The Elf's eyes were indeed closed. The vision frightened Estel and he reached a dirtied and nervous hand out to touch the knee of his oldest friend. "Mellón?"

Legolas eyes came open fast and he fixed his bright, uncanny eyes on Estel. The ranger noticed the pupils were large and black, darkening the elf's blue color. "What—Estel." He frowned, grooves of displeasure marring perfect unblemished skin between his dark brows. "Has Mithrandir chosen a path?"

Estel moved away and looked around the wall's edge. Everyone remained where they had been, with the Istari still speaking quietly with Frodo. Gimli had joined the tales woven by Boromir and the Hobbits appeared to be quite entranced.

"No, dear friend," Estel felt his own brow furrow. "Why were your eyes closed? Are you ill? Is it this place?" He wanted to reach out again, to touch his friend. Years ago they had traveled inside of this very mountain and then the elf had suffered a great melancholy, locked away from the sun and the trees. Had that same illness returned?

"They were closed?" Legolas' voice became soft. Distant. He looked away, showing his friend only a profile. "I will work harder not to sleep, Estel. It was only a moment of folly."

"Folly does not mark the Elvish eye to close, Legolas." Estel hoped to put a bit of warning in his voice. He would not be pushed aside again and again when something troubled his closet friend. His brother. "You are tired. Weakened once again?"

Legolas' head came up and he turned a fierce gaze upon Estel. "I am not weak. I am only—troubled."

"You sense something. Danger? Or perhaps you sense the battle that robbed this place of life and laughter?" He looked around at the hidden ceiling and at the ground around them, littered with bones and rocks. It was not a fit place for a First Born to dwell. "Speak to me, Legolas. I am your friend—a brother you have rescued many times more than deserved." He gave a half smile. "There are more than the mountain's woes in your eyes."

And for a brief instance Estel believed his friend would speak. He would share his burden and take him into his confidence again. Legolas' dark pupils burned through him, and the crease between his brows mended.

For an instant.

The elf straightened, and the hard set to his jaw returned. "I am only slightly injured by the feel of this place. It will not hinder my duty to protect this Company."

There was something else. An unspoken piece to the puzzle that Estel waited for him to say. But when it did not come, remaining a widening gap between them, the ranger nodded and moved back. "Aye, Legolas. I will deal with what you say—only remember—the protection of this company does not rely upon your shoulders alone. Carrying such a burden inside will only dim that Elven light."

And with that Estel stood. He was angry—with Legolas for turning away from him—and with himself because he couldn't touch his old friend. Not the way he had before. Long ago before the Rangers. Before the escape of Golem. When two friends, an elf and a man, walked side by side in the forests of Mirkwood.

"Ah…this way," Gandalf said at last.


End file.
